


The Extra Light Switch

by checkthemargins



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Community: spn_j2_bigbang, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 59,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season four takes a lot from Jensen: his girl, his sanity, his ability to know where Dean ends and Jensen begins. It almost takes his best friend away too, but he and Jared find their way back. Jensen's got an empty apartment, and Jared's got a house that's always been a home, so Jensen moves back in and life returns to normal. Jensen and Jared, taking on the Supernatural and the Greater Vancouver Area.</p><p>Four years later, filming of season eight starts with a bang—casual liaisons in the foyer, blinding jealousy, girls and dogs and drama, oh my. Jared's hiding something, smiling way too much, and obsessing over an extra light switch in the living room. And Jensen? Well, Jensen's realizing that he might be falling in love.</p><p>It's messy, but no big deal. Things are good.</p><p>Mostly.</p><p>Really.</p><p>So long as Jensen can survive it with his sanity—and his heart—intact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost I must thank the amazing, incomparable little_jade for her phenomenal artwork which I never could have dreamed would be so good.
> 
> Also, ginormous and huge and desperate THANK YOU to glovered and oddishly, who betaed the holy crap out of this thing and are the only reason it is even remotely legible. Thank you both so much for listening to me whine, and rant, and implode over this fic over and over and over again. I have no words for how much you helped, and love you both forever and ever, amen.
> 
> And, finally, to my friends list, who had to listen to me bitch about this fic for months on end, almost daily and met me with unerring support and talkings down.
> 
> I cannot tell you with what great relief I'm finally posting this, done forever, let me never look on it again. ;) I hope you all enjoy it!

[](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=banner-pocket-watch.jpg)

**SEASON FOUR: ONE**

Jensen always feels out of place in New York City. He's a beach-and-sun kind of guy and all this east coast makes him more awkward than normal, but Manhattan during Fashion Week is kind of a zoo, so he figures he fits right in. Danneel, of course, is drop dead gorgeous and might as well be one of the models all over the place. If nothing else, Jensen can tell people that he's part of her entourage. She got VIP passes to one of the runway shows as part of a gift package from the studio at the end of the _One Tree Hill_ season, and since the writer's strike put them both on hiatus earlier than expected they're spending the week in the city.

Bergdorf's, if nothing else, is fun to wander around in. It's expensive as hell, but Jensen's been wandering around in a fifteen hundred dollar fedora, a five hundred dollar white silk scarf, and some Dolce and Gabanna aviators that he can't even make himself check the price on pretty much since he walked through the door, and no one's said a damn thing to him about it.

"I think I could get into this fashion thing," he tells Danneel, who's looking through a rack of men's shirts with some kind of single-minded purpose. She looks up and smiles at him, pushes her hair back behind her ear.

"You look kind of..."

"Rich?" Jensen supplies for her. "Hot? Like the sexy beast you know I am?"

"I was gonna say douchey," she says, smiling wider, "but that works too."

He wiggles his eyebrows at her and strikes a pose, and she snorts (it's the least ladylike thing she does, and one of Jensen's favorites) and shakes her head. "Hey," she says, pulling out a light blue polo shirt that's at least two sizes too big for Jensen and looking at him expectantly. "Jared needs this, doesn't he? It'd look good across his shoulders."

"And you know he loves his pastels," Jensen offers, ever helpful. Danneel looks at the shirt thoughtfully and Jensen's smiling, because his girl has spent the last fifteen minutes looking for a shirt for his best friend, and that's somehow kind of awesome.

"What?" she asks, eyeing his grin.

"Nothin'," he tells her, sauntering over to her and slipping an arm around her waist. She's folding the shirt neatly over her arm with the few other purchases she's picked out. He squeezes her to him. "Look at you, bringing me all the way to New York to shop for Jared."

She kisses his cheek. "Well he clearly doesn't know how to do it himself. I'm your girlfriend. I have to take care of you _and_ your other half. It gets pretty exhausting. You should probably thank me."

Jensen looks at her, at her smile and her pretty eyes, at the flip of her hair and the giant polo folded over her arm, all through the yellowish tint of the sunglasses. And then he turns her to face him, puts his hands on her hips and says, "Thank you. Move in with me."

She blinks, mouth partially open. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face if he tried. He doesn't say anything else, and she's silent for what feels like forever—certainly long enough to make Jensen more than a little nervous—before she answers.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to move in with you because I'm buying Jared a shirt?"

Because she's awesome, and she makes him smile, and she makes him happy. Because he misses her so much when she's not around and because she knows him so well, knows all of the things that are important to him. Because she puts up with him and calls him on his bullshit and because he loves her.

"Yes."

A beat. Two. And then she's smiling so wide he's pretty sure he can see every single one of her teeth and she squeals, excitedly and wraps all around him, oblivious to all the attention that comes their way from other shoppers, and Jensen laughs and hugs her close. The clothes she's got draped over her arm are crushed between them awkwardly, but she flips the brim of his fedora up and cups his cheek and kisses him anyway.

"That was possibly the least romantic way to ask me that question ever."

Jensen just kisses her again and presses the pads of his fingers into the side of her neck, feels her heart pound against them. "So?"

"So yes, you Neanderthal. Drag me back to your cave. Let's get a place together."

Jensen smiles so hard his face hurts.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Jensen really isn't all that worried about telling Jared. This living situation was always going to be temporary, and it's not like their friendship will suffer. Hell, it's not like Jensen isn't going to spend ninety-five percent of his time at the house once Danneel is back in L.A. anyway. He's thirty years old, it's time. Jared'll get that.

Danneel, though, is driving herself slowly insane fretting about it. They're going to dinner, to a local place they've been to a million times, and she's donned her best cocktail dress like they'll be walking the red carpet or something. She's done this inexplicable but very sophisticated twisty thing with her hair, pinned neatly to the back of her head and wisps falling around her face. She's wearing shoes that make her almost Jensen's height and diamond earrings. Jensen's in jeans and a t-shirt, sitting on his bed in Jared's house and watching her pace. She's even wringing her hands together, shaking her watch on her wrist nervously.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Danny."

"In that huge house all on his own?"

"He'll have the dogs."

"I feel like I'm stealing you from him, or something."

Jensen laughs and she glares at him. "Obviously," he tells her. "That's exactly what you're doing."

" _Oh my God!_ I'm the other woman."

"Hussy," says Jensen.

She stops pacing long enough to present him with both of her middle fingers, biting her lip on a smile when Jensen laughs again.

"Really," she says, "I'm like, seriously worried about this. When Sophia moved out to go live with what's-his-name I was _so mad_. And my feelings were totally hurt. And we were never that close again, y'know? I am an _awesome_ roommate."

"I know," says Jensen, smiling up at her from his spot on the couch. She steps up to him and he sits up straight, puts her hands on her hips. "You're over-reacting though. Jared will be fine. He lived in that house alone before, and he can do it again. He's going to be happy for us."

"I know," she sighs. "But he'll still be kinda bummed, and he's got that stupid _face_."

"His face is very stupid," Jensen agrees, and leans in to press a kiss to her belly through her dress.

He's right, of course. Jared lights up like a kid on Christmas morning and laughs loud and excited right there at the restaurant, pulls Danny into an all-encompassing hug, kisses her cheek and starts asking questions that Danneel is more than happy to launch into a discussion about, all interior design and what part of the city and how many bedrooms.

Before they leave, Jensen gets hauled into a hug too, and he wraps an arm around Jared's broad back and dutifully accepts the smacking kiss to the side of his head. "You have to help me finish the back deck before you leave, though," Jared tells him.

"Put him back to work!" Danneel, a little tipsy, ducks around Jensen from the passenger seat of his car and smirks up at Jared. "Hard hat. Tool belt. No pants. I want pictures."

Jensen shoves gently at her face as she cackles, rolling his eyes when she grips his wrist and licks his palm. With his other hand, he holds up two fingers like a Boy Scout. "Scout's honor."

"Well, all right then," Jared says. They smile at each other stupidly until Danny wolf whistles. 

They do projects every year. They remodeled the kitchen the first year they were here, and turned the smaller guestroom downstairs into an extra bathroom. This past year, they tore down the old, worn, ugly-ass deck in the backyard and built a new one from scratch, their longest project to date. The day they finish it, all Jensen has left to move is a pair of shoes. Jared lets him hammer in the last nail and then hands him a beer. They're both sweaty and dirty and disgusting. Jared's huge and tan, hair slicked back with sweat. He's got dirt smudged on his cheek.

Jensen follows him back up the staircase and they drop down onto the first step side-by-side. It's not quite big enough for them, arms touching, t-shirts and skin sticking. They clink the necks of their bottles together, grin at each other and take a drink. It's quiet out, and hot. Harley is snuffling around the corner of the deck, and Sadie's down in the yard, repeatedly walking up and down the first half of the staircase like she's testing it out. Jensen knows firsthand just how sturdy it is. Damn untrusting dog.

"We did good," Jared says.

"Damn good."

It's quiet again, a different kind, not uncomfortable but Jensen's throat feels kind of tight. He nudges at Jared with his arm and Jared looks around at him. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, wincing into the sun. Jensen opens his mouth to say something but can't find the words. Luckily, Jared knows what they are and says them for him.

"You're gonna miss this place."

Jensen nods, circles his fingers around the bottle opening. Jared's got sweat rolling down his neck in beads on either side of the hollow of his throat. Jensen tilts his head, pushes his fingers back through his own sweat-soaked hair and clears his throat.

"I really, really am."

"Keep your key," says Jared. "It'll always be your home too, y'know? You helped build it."

"Sap," Jensen says, but he can feel his mouth pulling up at the corners. "Yeah, all right."

When he leaves, shoes in hand, Jared walks him out to his car, wraps his sweaty body all around him and his lips kind of smear over Jensen's cheek and back toward his ear. Jensen tugs at Jared's hair and feels Jared's lips grin.

"Be good, okay?"

Jensen swallows, laughs. "You, too."

It's harder to say goodbye than Jensen thought it would be, chest aching a little as he watches Jared disappear back into the house, dogs at his heels.

When he gets home—the new home, the perfect apartment that's his and Danny's and their future—Danneel wraps him up in a hug, even though he's still sweaty and gross.

"And you didn't think you'd be sad."

"His stupid face."

Danny laughs. Jensen still texts Jared before he goes to bed. _Don't forget to lock the door, jerkoff._

Jared gets back at him in seconds. _Done. Sweet dreams, asshat._

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

"Dude," says Jared from where he's sitting at the patio table, grinning at Danneel when she passes him a hamburger bun on a paper plate and Jensen slides a burger off the grill and right onto the bottom piece for him. His and Danneel's new apartment has a private rooftop courtyard, and Jensen bought a manly grill almost the second they moved in. It's huge (that's what she said), and pretty damn awesome. Better than the one at Jared's, naturally. Competition is what makes the burgers taste so good. "Have you read through the first episode yet?"

It's mid-summer, a month since Jensen and Danneel got their place downtown, hot as sin and very outside. It's just in time for Jared to ask his annual question, the exact same thing he asks at their back-to-work gatherings every year. There are other people milling around, cast and crew. The new guy—Misha—and his wife are talking to Eric and Jeremy. Chris is sitting next to Jared, chatting animatedly with his girl on his cell phone, voice drawling more than usual because he thinks it sounds sexy. Sera and Trish—a new PA—and Genevieve—the new Ruby, are talking to Mike and Tom, who have no part in the show but invited themselves along anyway.

Jensen shares a fond grin with Danny, who ruffles Jared's hair, and answers, "Yeah, man. S'gonna be good."

"Really good," Jared says, eyes all lit up, dimples on display in a way that has Danny twirling her hair and smiling flirtily as she looks at him. Jensen huffs a quiet laugh and nods, flipping her burger expertly onto her plate and getting a quick kiss on the lips for his effort.

"Really good," he agrees, sliding his eyes back to Jared, who's upturned a bottle of ketchup and is drowning everything on his plate in it. Jensen's happy. He's got Danneel here with him for a few more weeks before she's gotta go back to LA, he's back with his best friend, and season four? It's gonna be fucking awesome.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Three months later, there is very little fucking awesome about it.

Season four is _chock full_ of good stuff. Dean's fresh from Hell and deeply affected by his experience there, Sam has gone off the deep end, and there's a new regular on the scenes called Castiel. Misha is a really cool guy who Jensen clicked with pretty much right away, like Jared did with Jeff Morgan back in season one. The Winchesters are having trust issues, there's a lot they're not telling each other, and the whole Supernatural world just got Biblical. It's some of the harshest, most thought-provoking acting Jensen's ever gotten a chance to do, and the ar- _teest_ in him is pretty intrigued by every subtle nuance of the shift in the dynamic between Dean and every other character in the show.

The rest of Jensen, however, would like for season four to burn in a fire and die die die while he watches with vindictive glee. 

It's not like he means for it to happen, but getting lost in Dean is part of the gig, and Jensen's been in a perpetual foul mood for three months now. His relationship with Danneel is suffering, he and Jared are at each others throats more often than not, and Jensen's losing more sleep than he cares to admit. Dean's angst is wearing on him, Dean's pain is wearing on him, and Dean's helplessness is really, really messing with him. He misses his girl, he misses his best friend, and he misses being able to shake Dean off when shit like this happens.

And, in a move of unprecedented douchery on his part, he's been taking a lot of his frustration out on Genevieve. Danneel, who's working sixteen hour days for the first time and stressing like hell about the end of her run on the show she's working, and Jared, who's at least as fucked up by all of this as Jensen is, aren't willing to take his shit and will fight back until they look like just as much of an ass as he does.

Genevieve, however, is brand new, incredibly nice, and Jensen has been a complete and total jerk to her since she showed up. It's entirely unfair and so unlike him, but he can't separate her from the thing driving Dean and Sam (he and Jared) apart in his head. He's short with her, and condescending as all fuck, which is enough to drive anyone crazy, and she's pretty much been a perfect angel. The worst part is that he doesn't even realize what a Grade-A asshole he's being until he responds to her perfectly diplomatic "Morning, Jensen," with a flippant roll of his eyes and she grabs him in a surprisingly strong grip around his wrist and hauls him into a prop closet.

"Hey," he says, "What the hell're you—"

"Look," Genevieve says. She's looking at him shrewdly, hands on her hips. She looks pretty pissed off. "When I first got here people told me that Jared was a cake walk and that you'd be cold at first because you’re a little weird around new people but that you'd cool it with the rough edges and I'd see what a great guy you are. So I'm figuring that either I just haven't worked through the rough edges yet—which seriously, it's been months—or you're a better actor than even I thought because you're actually a huge dick that's somehow gotten everyone to love you despite said dickishness. _Or_ you're having some kind of issue with like, Dean, which I hear is something you do sometimes."

Jensen's just standing there, staring at her, mouth slightly open. No one beyond Jared, Danny, or his parents has talked to him like this in years.

"And I really want to give you the benefit of the doubt," she says, studying him carefully, "so I'm going to assume, for both our sakes, that it's door number three. So let me try and clear things up, okay? I'm engaged to a brilliant Indie film director in LA named Jason. I've been with him for eight years. I'm completely bonkers in love with him. I am not, therefore, actually sleeping with Sam Winchester."

"I—"

"I don't want to sleep with Sam Winchester. I am in a loving, monogamous relationship with the man of my dreams, and that man is not Sam Winchester. I'm not actually Ruby, I'm not trying to pull Sam away from Dean, and for the love of God, I don't want to come between them. I realize you've gotten a little lost in this show--it makes sense, you've been doing it a long time and you and Jared clearly get really into these characters--but I'm a _person_ , Ackles, not an actual demon, and you can't keep treating me like this because I really like my job and don't want to lose it because I've had to kick your ass in a public area when you shoot your mouth off at me one more time, okay?"

Amazingly enough, it cuts right through the cloak of angry resentment and grumpiness that Jensen's had wrapped around him since filming began months ago, and the guilt is kind of crushing. He feels idiotic and childish and like a complete douche. Genevieve is really nice and, according to most of the crew, a lot of fun, and she really hasn't sure as hell hasn't deserved to be caught in the middle of all of this, and she sure as hell didn't deserve Jensen's shitty mood directed at her personally. He scrubs a hand over his face, exhausted, and peeks through his fingers at her. She's smiling a little.

"I'm sorry," he says, sincere even if his voice remains a little gruff.

"I know," Genevieve says. "I figured you would be. I hoped you would be, anyway."

"I've been a jerk."

"Completely," Genevieve says. "But you just needed to be called on it. At least when it comes to you and me. You and Jared can keep screaming at each other about gummy bears and Tim Hortons all you want."

Jensen clears his throat quietly, face flushing. He and Jared had it out this morning, on set, of course, in front of God and everyone, about a spilled cup of coffee. Jensen's pretty sure that he started this one, because his jeans are still stained and Jared's too-long arm is what got it knocked off the counter and over Jensen's knee in the first place. It was a relatively short argument—this time at least—but it had ended with both of them stomping off in different directions, muttering darkly.

"We aren't usually like this," he tells her, thinks it's important that she knows. This rift between them is kind of killing Jensen a little. He and Jared have always gotten along really well, best of friends pretty much since the moment they set eyes on each other at that audition what feels like a billion years ago. Jensen hadn't even required a warming up period. Jared had just slotted right into Jensen's life like he'd been there the whole time, and now that it's been jarred it hurts and it sucks and Jensen still can't get over himself enough to not be annoyed by every little thing that Jared does lately, even though he knows it's because _Sam_ is lying to _Dean_ and has no basis in reality at all. Since Jared's been at least as snappy with him, Jensen figures it's a mutual weakness that this season is exploiting.

"I've heard," Genevieve says. "Ben said you guys used to live together and stuff."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, raking a hand through his hair. It's been like two months, and that feels like it was a hundred years ago too. "We almost never fought then. We almost never fight anyway. This is all just—"

"Yeah," she says, and she sounds a little sympathetic. "I know. I really do understand. Just, y'know, you two need to try and remember that even though Sam is lying to Dean about Ruby, and Dean is chillin' with Cas more and keeping secrets and all that, Jared and Jensen are still best friends who don't mind sharing their gummy bears and coffee with each other."

Jensen looks at her, an eyebrow raised. "Did you have this talk with Jared, too?"

"Yeah," she says with a shrug. "Though he's been nice to me, at least. I just overheard him on the phone with someone last week talking about what kind of prick would steal a man's Pop-Tart—"

"I didn't steal his damn Pop-Tart !" He flushes again when Genevieve clearly tries to rein in laughter.

"Anyway, he was on the phone with this Jeff guy—"

"Jeff Morgan," Jensen says. "He played John. He and Jared are like, best friends, or whatever. He wouldn't complain about me to anyone else." It's true, because Jared doesn't, in fact, get pissy and try and start shit with their extended group of friends beyond Jeff, who will tell him he's being an idiot the same as Chris or Misha will tell Jensen repeatedly when he talks to them about it. Neither of them have gotten that douchey yet. Jensen figures he can at least appreciate that.

"I thought you and Jared were best friends," Genevieve says. She sounds honestly curious, and it really sucks that it's come this far that that can even be called into question.

"We are," Jensen says, and then rolls his eyes at himself. "Jared puts it like this. We've got these tiers of best friendship, right? And he and I are at each other's top tiers. And then right under that is my friend Chris, and for Jared it's his friend Chad, but I'm pretty sure Jeff has pretty much taken over Chad's spot, even though Jared's loyalty won't let him admit to it. But he and Jeff don't go a week without talking. They're like teenage girls."

"So usually, if someone was pissing him off this much, he'd be ranting about it to you."

"Usually," Jensen agrees. And that thought makes him partially sad and partially ticked off. It's not like he's not guilty of the same thing. He's talked to Chris more in the last three months than he has in a year, and his phone is woefully empty of useless observations like _"Looks like rain"_ and _"I had a dream I was riding a camel in New York City"_.

"You guys are both idiots," Genevieve decides. "And this season is going to get worse before it gets better."

"Yeah."

Genevieve grips his arm. "You need a hug," she says, and wraps around him. She's small and petite and she smells good. Jensen tucks her in against him, apologetic and grateful. "Here, this might make you feel better," she says after she's pulled back. "Just between you and me though. No one is supposed to know at all."

"Oh yeah?" Jensen asks, intrigued, and feeling a little better, at least like he's not going to be railing at innocent bystanders anymore. Hopefully. He crosses his heart.

"In the finale, Dean gets to kill Ruby," Genevieve stage whispers, smirking.

Jensen stares at her for a second, and then grins, and she pats his shoulder and opens the door of the closet they're in and leaves. He follows her out and goes to find Jared, who's sitting in his chair at make-up and looking exhausted. Jensen settles into his own next to him and nudges Jared's shoulder. Jared looks around at him.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me?"" Jensen says, and then he makes his eyes big and round and sucks his cheeks in, makes a fish face.

Jared looks at him stonily for a long moment before his face breaks into a grin, and almost immediately Jensen is hauled up into Jared's side, Jared's arm around his neck, and his chair teetering precariously on two legs. Misha wanders in and quirks an eyebrow at them, and Jared and Jensen are grinning and all is right with the world again, so Misha smiles too. Everything's good.

That night, Jared says he's going to sweep Jensen off his feet in apology for spilling tepid coffee on him, and takes him to a burger restaurant they've hit a few times. They take a booth in the back and Jared orders them both beers, orders get an order of chili cheese fries to start. Jensen feels calm for the first time in a while.

"So," Jared says, when they're out of random small talk and they're each one beer down and he's licking gravy off his lip. "This season."

"Kind of fucking sucks, dude," Jensen says, and Jared nods and yawns, looking exhausted.

They've got tomorrow off, and Jensen's been almost dreading a full day of his own company and not a lot of motivation to do anything but sit around the empty apartment and mope, but after they eat Jared says, "Wanna come over and play some Lego Indiana Jones?" and Jensen says, pleasantly buzzed, "That sounds just about perfect, Jay."

They've got almost every Xbox achievement for Lego Indiana Jones, and after they spend thirty minutes fighting over who gets to play as the sidekick and who gets to play as Indy (Jared wins, because he's a jerk, but he forgot that the chicks get to jump higher and tries to take second player back, but Jensen's onto him. He jumps as Marion four or five times over Jared's Indy's head and Jared calls him an asshole), they get the last two over the next four hours and celebrate loudly. They're up until almost three in the morning, both of them more than a little drunk on really good beer.

Jared is smiling more than Jensen's seen him smile in weeks, and Jensen is grinning himself more than he has in what feels like months. It's familiar and good, like when he used to live here and they did this shit all the time, Jared's big house and his big dogs on the floor next to them, potato chips and beer and trash talk.

"Hey," Jared says at one point, features blue in the light from the TV. He's glassy-eyed from the drinks, smiling wide and lop-sided. He nudges Jensen in the side with his elbow and says, "Jen. Jen, we gotta not fight so much, huh? This is stupid. We're being stupid."

And Jensen, feeling decidedly empathetic on this point, agrees seriously and kind of loud, "Yeah, man." He nods so hard his head feels wobbly. He's holding the joystick on the controller downward on accident, and Lego Sallah is repeatedly walking off the edge of a cliff. They're losing studs at an alarming rate. Jared takes the controller from him.

"Jen!" he says, scandalized. "We'd maxed out, man! You're losing the studs. The _studs!_ " And he does this really weird hand motion and purses his lips out so he looks like a duck, and Jensen dissolves into laughter.

Even the next morning, when they both wake up with pounding headaches and completely hung over, still on the floor in the living room with the dogs drooling all over them, it's still the best and most hopeful Jensen's felt since the end of the summer hiatus.

Things feel good again, right again. He's been so off-base and out of his head with Dean that it's nice to just feel like himself again, and he wants to keep this for as long as he can, forever, this feeling right here with his best friend and this house he helped rebuild and stupid video games and some peace.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Danny gets Labor Day weekend off of shooting, so Jensen takes a couple of vacation days (it's a Sam-heavy episode anyway) to spend it with her.

When he picks her up at the airport, she smiles sweet as hell and rushes to him, and he kisses her right there, wraps her up in his arms and holds her to him, feels her hair on his neck and smells her expensive shampoo and her perfume, and it feels really, really good. She's gorgeous and thrilled to see him, and she's laughing and smiling and they've spent so many of their phone conversations fighting lately that it feels amazing to just be with her. They go out to lunch and she tells him about her show, tells him about an audition for a bit part in a big Blockbuster that's supposed to be out next summer, about a few new people she's met. She sounds happy and content with her life in LA.

When they get home, they spend fifteen minutes making out right inside the doorway before they leave a trail of clothes into the bedroom and tumble into their bed. It feels familiar and safe and _good_ , making love to her and laughing with her and feeling her fall apart underneath him. She's so sexy and he's been with her so long that he knows her body so well, knows just how to touch her to make her back arch and her thighs clench.

They take their time, go a few solid, hot rounds, and then, once they're both spent and panting, his face tucked into her neck, her legs still around him, she says, "You know you don't have to pull out the sex just to say you're sorry."

Jensen's short tempered at the best of times these days, and she just sucker punched him. He lifts himself off of her slowly, trying to keep his calm, his brow furrowed. She thumbs at his bottom lip and looks up at him, open and unapologetic.

"What the hell's that s'posed to mean?" he asks her. He can still taste her on his tongue, on his lips. This is fucking ridiculous.

Danneel studies him for a long time, and she's too damn smart of either of their own good, knows him too well, knows that he listens to the things she says. "It means that you've been an asshole lately, and you feel bad, and this was totally guilt sex. All you had to do was say you were sorry."

Jensen sits up, completely nonplussed, stares at her like she's crazy, like she's a stranger. She sits up too and pulls the blankets with her, covers herself up like he doesn't have the right to see her without her clothes on anymore. She's never been squeamish about her body. What the hell is she _doing_?

"This wasn't—Danneel, what the hell?"

"Okay," she says, and sighs. She sounds sad and worried. "This wasn't the right way to bring it up, I know. I'm sorry. I'm angry and I wanted to..."

"Make me feel like a grade-A dick?" he asks, trying not to let on how hurt he is.

"You've been a grade-A dick, Jen," she says. "And yes, okay? After the last phone call I've been petty and mean and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even..."

She trails off, bites her lip, and Jensen grips her chin, gentle, tender, but makes her meet his eyes again. "Shouldn't have what?"

She sighs again, and when she speaks her voice breaks, "Shouldn't have come here."

Jensen doesn't know what to say, his head spinning, his mind oddly blank. She's sex-mussed and beautiful. She's barely been here for three hours. "Danny?" he asks, cautious, because she's implying a hell of a lot here, and he's not sure he wants to hear it.

"Oh come on, baby," she murmurs. Her eyes are wet, tears spilling down her cheeks. She wipes at them. "God, I don't know what I'm even. Jensen you've been awful lately, and I know it's this whole season for you, but you've stopped talking to me. Everything I do is driving you insane, and quite honestly everything _you_ do is making me crazy, too."

"Dan, I'm sorry," he says in a rush. "I know I've been a prick. I've been told. Multiple times. I'm trying to get out of it. I wanted to make up for it this weekend." He's got a diamond ring in a box in the pocket of a suit jacket in his closet. They're got dinner reservations at her favorite restaurant up here tomorrow night. He's going to propose.

"It's not just that," Danny says. "It's just what got me to actually sit back and take a look at us." She's crying now, for real, and Jensen feels like he's about to shake apart at the seams. She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye, searching. "Jen, I like my life in LA. My friends are there, my work is there. My whole life but you is there, and I've been waiting for you to come home, eventually, y'know? But then you wanted us to get a place here, and this is where you want to spend most of your breaks, and this is where your best friend is and this is..."

"Home," Jensen finishes for her. His heart's dropped into his knees, pressed hard into the blankets. He loves Danneel, so fucking much, but he hates LA. He hates the weather and he hates how much responsibility is there. He hates the cameras and the crowds and the parties and pretty much everything about it. It's not home to him, not like Vancouver has become.

"I don't wanna live here," Danny murmurs. "And I know you don't wanna live in LA, and neither of us is really willing to compromise, and if we were as solid as we should be, we would be willing, wouldn't we?" She rubs at her tear-streaked face and Jensen swallows hard. Danny hiccups softly, looks at him with loving brown eyes. "I wanted...I don't know. I wanted to come here today and be with you and—and feel you and hope that something would just _happen_ , y'know? That we'd be together and suddenly be on the same page."

"Danny," Jensen says again. His throat is killing him, the obstruction there suffocating. He cups her face in both his hands and she clutches at his back. Their foreheads drop together. He bites his lip. "Are we. Are we really doing this?"

"I love you," she says, voice thick with her tears now, barely audible. She sniffles hard, her eyes shut tight. "God, Jen, I love you so much, but I can't...I can't do this. I can't be away from you for so long and I can't change the rest of my life to be with you and I'm. God, Jensen, I'm so sorry."

"Danneel," he whispers, and kisses her gently. It feels like a last kiss. Like the end. "I love you. I love you."

"I know," she whispters. Her little hands are warm and so soft on his back. "I know."

This isn't what was supposed to happen. This isn't how this scene was supposed to go, and she's thinking that too. She wanted to make him mad because it'd make it easier, but she loves him too much to really use that and mean it, and he feels like his soul's just been bled out of his nose and eyes and ears. This was supposed to be their weekend.

He sleeps on the couch that night and buries his wet face in the pillow he took from the bedroom, wrapped up in an over-sized blanket, his whole body shaking with the force of it all. In the morning, both of them red-eyed and puffy and swollen, pack up the few things she unpacked the day before. He takes her back to the airport, and promises him that she'll go stay with friends for a few days, that she won't be alone and wallowing in her condo. She hugs him, and it's perfect and bitter and awful, and Jensen holds her for half an hour there before the security gates. His eyes are wet again, and tears are rolling down her face.

"Jensen, I..."

"Yeah," he says. He smears her tears with his thumbs and kisses her forehead.

She sighs. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

He nods. "You too."

He calls Jared when he gets home, waits for his voicemail to pick up and says, "Danny and I broke up. Just—uh—just wanted to let you know. Or something. I don't know. Call me back."

Jared does, on his lunch break, and Jensen can hear low nineties alternative from the satellite radio Jared keeps in his trailer in the background.

"Hey."

"Oh my God, man, are you okay? I mean, of course you aren't, but Christ. I'm so sorry. You were going to propose!"

"I know," Jensen says dully. He wanted to talk to Jared a lot when he called him, but now, hearing Jared's voice and sympathy might just be more than he can take. He clears his throat. "Look, I don't want to, like, feel it out. I just wanted you to know."

"Jen, man, is there anything I can do?" Jared asks. "You want me to come over?"

Jensen snorts. "You're working."

"Fuck work," Jared says. "I can come over."

Jensen closes his eyes and tilts his head back on the couch. "Nah, man, kind of want to wallow on my own for a while. But thanks."

He can all but hear Jared gnawing on his bottom lip before Jared says, reluctantly, "Okay, but I'm coming over after work."

"Jared—"

"It's not optional."

Jensen huffs a breath, pinches the bridge of his nose and nods, even though Jared can't see him. "Okay."

"I'll bring ice cream."

"I don't want ice cream."

"It's not for you, dumbass."

He and Danneel talk a few times on the phone over the next few days, checking on each other, still so used to talking on the phone at least three times a day that it's hard to get out of the habit. They talk a lot about their relationship and the parts that didn't work, but Jensen knows better. She said it was a culmination of a lot of stuff, of the long distance and the fact that they've mostly just been comfortable with each other and that neither of them have been happy, but he's ninety-nine percent positive that she's just trying to make him feel better, which sucks so fucking bad because he can't be mad at her when she's trying to do shit like that. His attitude toward her and their plans for the future and life in general since filming started has been hostile and ugly, intermittently excited and happy like when he was shopping for the ring and thinking about Mrs. Danneel Ackles in the back of his mind, but mostly he's been dismissive and unfair, and she finally had enough. He doesn't blame her. He let himself have that one night when the split happened to fall apart about it, and then he shoved it so far back into his mind it won't see the light of day ever again.

"Jen," Jared says, mid-Halo game in Jensen's too-empty apartment exactly one week after The End. It's almost eleven at night. Jared puts his controller down and stands up as Jensen's walking into the room with a refilled bowl of salsa and a new bag of chips. Jensen stops in his tracks, because Jared's got this look on his face that is, above all things, not to be trusted. He has no idea what's coming, so when Jared wraps him up in a hug he stands there, both hands full and arms spread as much as they can be with Jared's grip keeping them partially pinned down.

"Uh, dude?"

"You just look like you need a hug," says Jared, totally muffled by Jensen's hair, where Jared's decided to all but bury his mouth. Jensen's lips part, and he's sure he's about to protest—hello, standing here with salsa—but instead he just turns his head a little, feels Jared's lips scrape over his hair and awkwardly nudges his chin against Jared's shoulder.

"Fuck you," he says, voice thick. He feels Jared's smile.

"Fuck you too."

In general, Jared is awesome about it and wants to help, but Jensen doesn't want to talk about it and he doesn't want to be coddled about it and he doesn't want to _deal_ with it. Jared doesn't walk on eggshells around him for the next couple of weeks, but he's always got this sympathetic look on his face and keeps saying 'Hey, if you need to talk...' and Jensen mostly just wants to strangle him. He remembers Jared after Sandy, remembers how torn up he was and remembers that getting Jared to talk to him—to _anyone_ —about it after they broke up was like pulling teeth, but once Jared had finally let himself feel it, after weeks of ignoring and smiling and telling everyone and their dog how just fine he was, he felt a lot better. Still beat up, but not so off-center anymore. So Jensen knows that's what Jared's thinking, that Jensen just needs to let himself deal, let Jared take care of him for a while, be a good friend and cheer his buddy up, but Jensen isn't Jared, doesn't need to spill it all out in the open, and Jared can shut his damn face about it and shove his sympathy right up his perfect ass.

Unsurprisingly, the break-up hasn't done wonders for Jensen's perpetual state of moodiness.

"I know you're like, grieving," says Chris.

"Tch."

"But you're kind of being a douche nozzle."

"Your mom."

"I love you, man. Brother from another mother."

"I love you too," says Jensen.

"Good. Now be nicer to your other friends, because they think that Jared apparently isn't being hard enough on you, and they all have my number."

Jensen hangs up on him.

On set, he goes out of his way to be nicer to Genevieve and he tries to be nice to everyone in general, but on the whole he's still having trouble finding the patience to deal with just about anyone.He's actively trying to behave, but he's exhausted and over-worked and sunk so far down into Dean's fucked up head that nothing is okay. Everything is grating on his nerves, even Misha, who's the most laid back guy in the world. Jensen's tired of the eighteen-hour days and of all the fighting he and Jared have to do as Sam and Dean and of all the damn crying Dean does this season. He's grumpy and what his mom would call out of sorts, and he feels raw and unhappy and his life is falling apart because of a fictional character, and while Saint Jared is out in the crowd laughing and pulling pranks with Misha and acting like all this crap isn't bothering him at all, the rest of the cast and crew are mostly giving Jensen a wide berth.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

__  
The Fight  
, as it will go down in Supernatural history happens during one of Jensen's rare mellow streaks. He's been in a fine mood all morning, and he and Genevieve and Misha and Kim and Eric have been shooting the shit most of their lunch break and it's been completely companionable. Jared's sole owner of the crappy mood today, and he's been the twitchy bastard stomping around set and growling at anything that dares approach him since he got in the car way too early this morning.

So this time, it's Jared that starts the hostility up, Jared who's got the circles under his eyes and who went off on a PA this morning for no reason at all, and Kim volunteers Jensen to go after him and try and knock some sense into him after he reduced the poor woman to tears. It's the worst thing Jensen's seen Jared do since all this started, the worst mood he's _ever_ seen Jared in. The crew is used to Jensen being grumpy and quiet, he's been that way since the beginning, but Jared's the easy going one, and when he's out of it it knocks a lot of the camaraderie around set off center. Jared's entitled to a shitty mood the same as anyone, but yelling at a completely innocent and brand new assistant is pushing it too far.

Ironically, it's not even Jensen bringing up the poor woman that starts it. It's nothing so sensible as that. He doesn't even get a chance. They're about to reshoot a scene from "Metamorphosis", which is airing in less than a week, and he tracks Jared down in wardrobe right before they're due back on set. Jared's walking out as Jensen walks in, and they bash into each other hard enough that it knocks them both back. Jared, on a step, trips over it and goes down pretty hard on his ass, arms flailing in a futile attempt at catching his balance. It would be funny. It _is_ kind of funny, but the look Jared sends Jensen's way is absolutely livid, completely out of place considering the general lackluster of what happened, but furious nonetheless, and Jensen is just close enough to the edge of argumentative himself that when Jared growls out, "Watch where you're fucking going, dude," Jensen feels ire spark up strong and easy.

Everything kind of blurs into this haze of fury that's completely irrational and has nothing to do with each other. Jensen brings up the girl Jared just made cry, and Jared counters by bringing up Danneel, how Jensen couldn't keep her. It's way below the belt, leaves Jensen gutted and he lashes back with Sandy, how Jared lost her even when she had a ring on her finger and how Jared hasn't been able to hang onto a girl for more than a couple of weeks since. It just gets uglier from there, the attacks getting steadily more personal until they're both standing there in front of wardrobe screaming at each other. People have gathered around, most of them ready to pull them off each other if it comes to blows, but not sure what to do about the shouting. It isn't until Kim and Ben intervene that anyone makes a move.

Jensen gets dragged to his trailer by Kim and Todd, his stunt guy. He's breathing heavy and his chest hurts and his stomach is roiling and he's _really fucking angry_. His voice is hoarse from yelling. He's only vaguely aware of Todd saying something, of Kim answering. Blood is roaring in his head and somewhere between the anger and the hurt the logical part of his brain is lamenting that _they're only eight episodes into the season_.

Back in front of the cameras, they nail the scene. Sam makes Dean pull the car over and he slams the door on his way out of it, is all up in arms, caught somewhere between hating himself and believing in himself, hating the demon blood in his veins and believing that he can turn something awful into something good. Jared is pitch-perfect, Sam's anger and desperation and frustration with Dean all coming through crystal clear and heart-wrenching, and Jensen feels Dean's disappointment and worry and anger and pain so fucking hard that is chokes him, leaves him raw and festering like an infected wound. They get it in one take, so much easier than the first time they filmed it, when Jared was farting in the car and finding it hilarious and Jensen was laughing and rolling his eyes even though it's been three seasons and it's really, really not that funny anymore.

After, Jensen's exhausted. It's been the worst month ever. He wants to hit something, maybe take a sledgehammer to the walls of his— _only_ his now—apartment just for the catharsis of smashing things to pieces that aren't himself. He slumps into the car, arms wrapped around his middle casually and rests his head against the window. When Jared piles in a minute later, Jensen doesn't bother to turn his head. He does, however, count through ten seconds before Jared can't take the awkward silence anymore and breaks.

"Jensen, man, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I was such an ass."

And Jensen wants to joke around it, wants to forgive and forget, knows that Jared is sincere as hell, looks at him and sees his big eyes rounded and his face pale and worried in the light from the streetlamp. But he's not ready—he _can't_ —let go of what Jared said about Danneel yet. That wound is too fresh, and Jared dug in hard in a way Jensen never would've expected him to. He knows he's overreacting and that Jared really, really didn't mean it, that it's so blatantly out of character for Jared to even go in for the kill just to cause pain like that, but he's not feeling generous enough to forgive, and even if he knows Jared doesn't, he believes it himself too much to not be anything but gutted and defensive right now.

"Just fuck off, man," he says easily, turning away again.

"Jen..."

"Seriously," says Jensen. "Leave off."

Jared doesn't say anything else, but when they pull up in front of Jensen's complex, he grabs lightly at Jensen's wrist when Jensen crawls over him to get out of the SUV. Jensen just shakes him off and closes the door, walks into the building and rides the elevator to his floor and lets himself inside, where it's still and silent, like he's stepped into a vacuum. He hates it all the way through his usual routine, through late crappy dinner of leftover Chinese food and all through his shower and brushing his teeth and falling into bed.

"Chris," he groans into his phone, like he's dying.

"Shit. Are you seriously calling me to whine again?"

"No," Jensen says moodily. Chris laughs, and Jensen groans again, this time muffled by how he's pressing his face hard into the mattress. Eventually, he gives into the urge, and Chris lets him rage about Jared for a few minutes, and then they talk about how hot Mila Kunis is, the plague of the current trend of shitty music in the world, and about whose show scores a higher level of awesome on a scale of one to ten for about half an hour.

"So," Chris offers after a while, when Jensen's feeling more himself, but still raw and pissed the fuck off at the guy who's supposed to be his best friend. "How long you gonna freeze 'im out for?"

"I don't fucking know," Jensen says grouchily. "Forever."

Chris laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Jensen hangs up on him, drops his phone onto the floor, and falls asleep frowning.

Season four can suck it.


	2. Chapter 2

**SEASON FOUR: TWO**

Jensen's grandfather dies exactly one month after his relationship with Danneel crumbles into dust.

Vaguely, he's aware that he's still on the phone. He can hear the solemn, upset tone of his dad's voice, but it's muffled and far away. The rush of blood between his ears is deafening, and the weakness in his knees almost buckles his legs before he manages to make it to the nearest trailer and brace himself against the side. His mouth feels dry and his tongue feels too big. His eyes are stinging. He's been close to his grandfather ever since he was a kid. He talks to him every Wednesday at eleven thirty in the morning, no matter what. He's the one who talked Jensen's parents into trusting him to go to LA, to getting into acting. He's the one that believed in Jensen when no one else did. He likes to fish and to play darts and he's obsessed with British crime novels. He wears sweater vests and slacks and brown loafers every damn day. He has bushy white eyebrows that probably have their own zip code, and he's got freckles on his cheeks and nose just like Jensen does. He's funny and curmudgeonly and sharp and wise. He swears like a sailor and he thinks it's hilarious to leave his dentures in unassuming places where they'll scare the grandkids. He's only seventy-five. This really shouldn't be happening.

"Jensen?" his dad asks. He sounds like he has a cold.

"Yeah," Jensen says, his voice dull. He clears his throat. "Yeah, sorry."

"The funeral is going to be Saturday," his dad says. "Saturday morning."

"Okay," Jensen says. "I'll call as soon as I have my flight information."

"Okay," his dad says. He's quiet for a few seconds, and then he says. "Are you gonna be all right?"

No. "Yeah," he answers. "I'll be okay. Just. Wow."

"I know," his dad says quietly.

They hang up after a stilted goodbye and a solid 'I love you', and Jensen thumbs his phone off and turns his head, presses his cheek against the cold metal of the trailer. They've finished filming for the day. He's exhausted and, for some reason, earlier, he was really fucking irritated. At Jared. Has been for days. They haven't spoken in three days, since the fight. That stupid fight. Jensen's been so wrapped up in Dean's misery and anger and disappointment in Sam, and Jared has the great misfortune of sharing Sam's face, and this episode hasn't been any easier on Jared, either. He thinks of the shit-tastic moods they've both been in, the way they've been treating each other.

It all seems really trivial now. A couple of rough months. His grandfather had a heart attack in his sleep. He's dead.

"Jensen?"

Jensen blinks, lifts his head. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at the same spot on the ground for so long and his vision goes spotty at the sudden change in scenery. He looks up, and up, and into Jared's face, and where earlier there had been just as much petty anger and spite in Jared's eyes as there had been in Jensen's, now there's only a wealth of concern, Jared's forehead lined, eyebrows drawn together and eyes looking left and right over Jensen like he's got the words for what's wrong written on his face.

"Hey," Jensen says. His voice is a little rough. He forces himself off the wall he's supporting himself on, forces himself to stand up straight and take his own weight. The trailer is Jared's, he realizes now. This is where he'd wandered as soon as he got the phone call. He's not as surprised as he should be. Jared's already out of Sam's clothes, dressed now in jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt and jacket. It's cold and sunny, almost three in the afternoon. Jared's nose and cheeks are pink from the wind.

"Hey," says Jared. He tilts his head to the side, frowning. "What's going on? What happened?"

"My, uh," Jensen starts. He has to stop and close his mouth, wait for it to get wet again. He feels weirdly parched. "My grandpa passed away this morning."

Jared's face goes from furrowed brow and frowning concern to smooth-faced shock, eyebrows rising toward his hairline, and there's an instant deep grief there in his gaze. He reaches out, grips Jensen's arm carefully and Jensen looks down at his big hand wrapped around his bicep, long thin fingers pressing along the inside of his arm.

"Jack?" Jared asks. He knows, knows that Jensen's grandfather is like one of his best friends.

Jensen nods, swipes his tongue across his top lip. "Yeah."

"God, man," Jared says, and pulls him in, engulfs him in a hug that Jensen didn't realize how much he'd missed until right now. "I'm so sorry."

He's not even sure how to react to that, so he doesn't say anything, just lets one of his hands settle on Jared's back and kind of soaks up the warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until just now.

When Jared lets go, it could be minutes or hours later, and Jensen feels totally off-balance without it. Jared keeps his hands on him though, grips both of Jensen's arms. "When's the funeral?"

"Saturday."

Jared tilts his head, blinks, mind whirling as he aligns schedules, Jensen knows. "I'll book tickets."

"Tickets?" Jensen says.

"Well, yeah," Jared answers, shrugging. "Chris'll need to get there from Oregon, and you and I...I mean, unless you wanna go without me. I'd totally get it. Eric'll like that better, too, we can film some Sam stuff and—"

"You're coming," Jensen says immediately, nodding. It's not even something he has to consider. He couldn't do this without Jared. He's positive that he wouldn't be able to face any of this back home with Jared.

Jared hauls him into another hug. Jensen holds on. "Okay," Jared says, his breath ruffling Jensen's hair. "Good, okay."

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

At the wake after the funeral, Jensen's sitting by himself on an old, sturdy wooden swing on his grandmother's back porch. Her tears are still wet on his suit jacket, and he can still feel the weight of the coffin he and the other pallbearers carried to the Hearse. Most everyone is inside, eating, talking. Jensen can't even feel his stomach, let alone try to put anything into it. A few smaller groups are outside too, in the sunshine, a welcome distraction that he doesn't actually have to be a part of. Jensen's watching Danneel, who's talking to her parents and Jensen's aunt and uncle, and it hits him again how close he was to her being his forever. Their families got along so well, they were all already engrained together. She's so beautiful it hurts to look at her, but he can't stop, something aching and awful and guilty twisting in his gut. He didn't break up with her, but he feels like he failed her, and sometimes he misses her so much it aches. He's so lost in his misery that he doesn't notice his mom join him on the swing until she touches his arm and says his name.

He pulls his eyes away from the girl he was going to marry and looks at his mother, whose eyes are sad and understanding, tear tracks still smudged on her cheeks from the funeral. Jensen takes her hand and she enfolds his in both of hers.

"Sweetie," she says gently, reaching up to cup his face. She looks at Danneel for a glance and then back. "You know it's okay, don't you?"

Jensen swallows. "I know how much you guys love her."

"Of course we do," she says. "But it wasn't meant to be."

Jensen snorts. His mother is mostly a hopeless romantic. "You think so?"

His mom thwacks him lightly on the head. " _Yes_. Danneel is a wonderful woman, but your happiness is what matters to us most. You've always defined a bit of yourself by relationships. You've never been single for any real length of time. I think it's time you give that a shot. Get to be happy with yourself, before you go try to make someone else happy with you, huh?"

Jensen rubs a hand over his face, exhausted. It's true, he supposes. He doesn't like to be alone. He thinks too much, is too much of a pessimist to handle it very well. Maybe she's got a point.

Behind him, he hears loud, familiar laughter and looks around to see Jared, sitting on the grass in his suit, legs sprawled out comfortably while Jensen's cousins' twin girls Maya and Renee, three years old and obsessed with knock-knock jokes, look at him adoringly. Almost in slow motion their older brother Mason, who just turned five, shoots from his mother's side and across the lawn to barrel into Jared's side. Jared just manages to catch him, falls back with him with an exaggerated 'oof' and then immediately lifts him up above himself while Mason spreads his arms out like an airplane and squeals at how much fun it is to be airborne.

"Besides," his mom says, and when Jensen looks at her she's looking over at Jared and the kids with a smile. She shakes her head in amusement and jerks a thumb in their direction. "You can't ever really be alone with Jared around, can you?"

Jensen laughs a little and nods, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "It's pretty much impossible," he agrees.

His mom smiles, and Jensen does too. It feels real on his face. Sincere.

Later, when he talks to Danneel, she's nothing but gracious and amazing, and he manages to keep his foot out of his mouth. Just when they've hit an awkward lull, Jared yelping while Josh gets him in a probably totally-deserved headlock in the middle of the back yard breaks through the silence, and Jensen and Danneel both watch him flailing around and then smile at each other. Maybe they'll make it back to being friends, at least. He doesn't think he could live without her for real.

When his gaze is inevitably drawn back to Jared, Josh is looking triumphant and Chris has his foot on Jared's chest and his friend's entire body is covered in a pile of little kids, and he's laughing just as hard as any of them. Jensen shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose and stands up. It's time for a goddamn drink.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

"I'm not _drunk_ ," says Jensen, so completely drunk.

"Of course your aren't, sweetie," he hears his mother say, and he tries to turn around to tell her that he _isn't_ , damn it, but he's got Chris on one side and Jared on the other and his legs are mostly gelatinous and his head feels wobbly on his neck, so he fails miserably and instead ends up with his mouth open and kind of drooling drunkenly all over Jared's shoulder. Jared smells like subtle expensive cologne and grape Kool-Aid, which was spilled on him by one of Jensen's little cousins before the kids were sent to bed and the drinks got a little more adult.

"I'm sleepy," Jensen says loudly, startled at how true it is, and suddenly it's like he can't even expend the energy to hold himself up. Chris grunts and Jared makes a choked little noise when Jensen's arm tightens around his neck as he lets the rest of his body go slack. He's pretty sure they're inside. They were in the car a few minutes ago. Possibly a few hours ago. Time is relative. He clutches at Jared's throat and fists his hand in Chris's t-shirt and marvels at just how fucking _sleepy_ he is. Sleepy and _sad_. God, he's just. He really fucking sad, y'know?

"I know," Jared says sympathetically, his voice very close to Jensen's ear, and Jensen blinks, cautious. Jared's a mind reader.

"No, Jen," Chris says with easy patience on his other side. "You're talking out loud. Fuckwit."

"Christian," Jensen's mom warns, still somewhere close by.

"Sorry," Chris says, and sounds it in a way only moms can make him sound (sincere).

Jensen looks down, watches his legs move of their own accord, one foot in front of the other sloppily and disjointed until the sole bumps up against the bottom step. He looks up the staircase. He knows his room is up there, and that he'd really like to get to it, but right now the idea of climbing steps just makes him laugh at how ludicrous is it.

"Jesus," Chris says, sounding amused. "You'd think he just got home from prom or something."

"Prom is stupid," Jensen tells him, brow furrowing. He'd been prom king. Alicia Spinner had been Queen. She'd been really hot. He wonders what she's doing now.

"I don't think all three of us are going to fit up there," says Jared. He sounds entirely too sober, in Jensen's humble opinion. He slides his fingers over the hollow of Jared's throat where his arm's still pulled around Jared's neck and feels Jared's pulse throb under his fingertips.

"It's your turn," Chris says, and Jensen watches him with a fond grin as Chris expertly untangles himself from Jensen's hold and manhandles him so he's all leaned up against Jared instead. Jared's knees are just above his. Jensen slumps so they touch his thighs. Jared smells really good but Jensen's stomach is kind of roiling now. He may or may not throw up. He looks back around at Chris and reaches out to clap him on the shoulder, but it's clumsy and Chris just laughs at him before he looks back up at Jared. "Last time I got to take drunk Jensen up stairs, I was more bruised than stunt practice."

"Dude, I've told you," Jared says, holding most of Jensen's weight, "drunk Jensen is all elbows. You've got to keep his arms engaged."

"Yeah, yeah," Chris says. "Engage my ass, Jay."

Jensen laughs dopily and Jared sighs, and together they stumble up the stairs. It's long, hard work. For Jared, that is. Jensen's mostly concentrating on keeping his insides on the inside.

The room is tilting uncomfortably by the time they finally get there, and Jensen's unsettled by it, so he forces himself to regain enough equilibrium to make it to his bed. It's dark save for the moonlight coming through his open blinds, just enough to see by. Jared eases him down, and Jensen clings a little, still upset by the slow topsy-turvy spin of the world around him, doesn't let go until he's sitting and then scoots back on the mattress and lies down. It's overwhelmingly comfortable. He rubs his cheek against his pillow and sighs deeply. When he feels a tug on his foot, he opens eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed and looks at Jared, who is pulling at the laces of Jensen's dress shoes. Jensen watches him, part-grateful, part-curious as Jared tugs the shoes off his feet and lets them drop to the floor. Socks are next, and then Jensen unfastens his slacks and lifts his hips accommodatingly so Jared can pull them off too. While Jared moves the shoes and pants out of the way, probably so Jensen won't trip on them when he's rushing to the toilet later, Jensen manages to get himself under his covers.

"You gonna be okay?" Jared asks, and for a second Jensen thinks he's going to just leave, but he comes back to the bed and sits down, folding one long leg up under him so his knee is just a few inches from Jensen's side.

Jensen scootches over to one side of the bed and pats the blankets next to him. Jared stretches out on his back next to him. The ceiling fan is spinning lazily above them. Jensen belches at it and Jared makes an appreciative sound and awards him a ten out of ten.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you this drunk, man," Jared says. "Not since, God, like, when Dean was all fucked up in season three and we went out right around Christmas, remember?"

Jensen frowns deeply. That was an awful year of filming, all drenched in Dean's angst. Kind of like this year. Jesus. Poor fucking _Dean_. They'd gone to a brand new bar that'd opened up by Jared's, and Jensen has almost no recollection of the night. He waves a dismissive hand. "Dean is _stupid_ ," he says.

Jared makes an agreeable sound, soft and breathy, and Jensen turns his head to look at him for a second. Jared's eyes are closed, his arms folded under his head. He's still wearing his suit from the funeral, sans the jacket and tie. He looks relaxed, expression easy. Jensen swallows hard around the sudden lump in his throat and looks back up at the ceiling.

"My grandpa's dad used to make watches. Like, pocket watches, y'know?" he tells Jared.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm. He had a shop that'd been in the family for years, but they lost the business during the Depression. They were like, really famous back then. The watches. Celebrities were buying them and stuff. That guy that was in The Thin Man—"

"William Powell," Jared offers.

"Yeah, him. He bought one. They had this special line of them, the most expensive ones, right? Grandpa had one as a kid, but when they lost the shop they had to sell everything." He remembers being a kid himself and listening to this story almost every time he saw his grandfather, like it was the one childhood memory Jack had focused on, like it meant something. Jensen just figured it reminded him of the hard times, or of surviving them. He'd been bored to tears by the time he was fifteen and the old man was still droning about the damn watch shop. His grandpa had been very successful engineer. He'd made more money than all of his ancestors combined, and he was still all over those damn watches.

"What was it called?" Jared asks. "The company."

"Ackles & Anderson," Jensen says.

His face hurts, and his eyes are stinging. He can't believe he's here. Because of this. He can't believe they put his grandfather in the ground today. He closes his eyes and feels wet heat spill past his lashes and down his temples into his hair. Jack had a full, great life, something that should be celebrated, but now Grandma Maggie's all on her own in that big house and how is she gonna stand it, waking up by herself every morning after forty-seven years spent waking up next to her husband? Who's going to put the star on the tree at Christmas and who's going to almost light everyone on fire with the giant grill out on their back deck every summer? How is she going to make it through the grief? He knows that family will be around her a lot right now, but what about later, after the shock has worn off and Jensen's parents and cousins and aunts and uncles all have to go back to their lives with their families, and Grandma Maggie's just left there by herself in an empty house?

"Fuck," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face, smearing tears. He's drunk and he misses his grandpa and it hurts. Jared shifts around onto his side and Jensen feels a big hand drop onto his head, warm palm smoothing his hair back soothingly and then dropping to Jensen's shoulder and squeezing. Jensen snuffles quietly and Jared rubs at his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Jared says. Jensen nods, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head is starting to pound.

"Thanks," he murmurs. He takes a few seconds to get himself back under control after Jared takes his hand back, and then he turns his head again. He still feels wasted, the morose kind, and he looks at Jared through eyes that feel gritty. "Thanks," he says again, "for coming back here with me."

"Dude," is all Jared says, like Jensen's an idiot. Jensen can't seem to make himself look away. Jared's tilts his head as well as he can with his cheek smushed into a pillow. "You need a hug?"

"No," Jensen grouses.

"I think you do," Jared says, and Jensen would try to protest but it'd be useless. Jared wraps all around him, stays even when Jensen accidentally elbows him hard in the stomach, makes obnoxious cooing noises in his ear until Jensen laughs. They wrestle around on the bed for a couple of minutes, and then settle. Jared's still got an arm around him. Jensen smells grape Kool-aid again.

"Jay?"

"Yup?"

"I'm sorry for being a douche the other day."

"Hey, I'm the one that started it. And I went way too far man. You shouldn't be sorry."

"Yeah, but you tried to apologize after and I was a jerk."

"You were," Jared agrees.

"I'm sorry," Jensen says. It's suddenly really important that Jared know that. He turns onto his side and grips at Jared's shirt so that Jared knows this is sincere and intense and important. "I'm really sorry. It was stupid. We shouldn't fight like that. We shouldn't."

"It's okay, Jen," Jared says, and Jensen's too drunk to be able to tell if it's just indulgence. Jared's hand grips Jensen's wrist gently. "Really. You're sorry, and I'm sorry, and we'll try not to fight so much, okay?"

"Jared," Jensen says. His eyelids are impossibly heavy. "Jared, man, I'm really, really—"

Jensen feels a kiss smacked to his forehead. "Go to sleep," orders Jared.

It sounds like a pretty good idea. Jensen says, "Okay", closes his eyes and lets himself fall asleep.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

When they land in Vancouver, they go to lunch at a kind of campy bar by the airport that they've discovered has really good food. It's ten o'clock at night and they're halfway through a basket of spicy-barbecue chicken wings in a booth in the corner when Jared clears his throat theatrically and says, "Move in with me."

Jensen's mouth is partially open, chicken wing poised in front of it. He freezes for a second, and then slowly lifts his eyes from his food to Jared's face. Jared's grinning a tired grin, looking relaxed and sounding matter-of-fact. He scratches at the mole next to his nose and flicks his hair out of his face. Jensen blinks at him, twice, and then lowers his chicken wing back to the plate he hasn't really been using.

"But we've only just started dating," he says. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

It's the right answer, because Jared's face lights up so bright his dimples might as well be sparkling. He's gone through more than half of the basket of wings. Jared's eating habits are mostly fucking irritating, mostly because Jensen's hit thirty and his metabolism has slowed down and when he gets home tonight he's going to have to hit the treadmill for an hour and a half. Jared can eat half the food in the state of Texas and still look like, well, like he does. Rock hard all over and like, zero percent body fat.

"C'mon," Jared says, leaning forward in his seat, elbows on the table and hands folded casually, thumbs drumming on the lacquered wood.

Jensen laughs. "C'mon what?"

"C'mon move in with me! It'll be awesome. Remember how awesome it was? Halo tournaments. House parties. Your anal-retentive tidiness and the way you'd grind your teeth when I left dishes in the sink instead of putting them in the dishwasher."

"Your shit all over the place," Jensen adds, "your singing in the shower, your complete inability to remember to lock doors at night."

"Your prissiness," Jared agrees, "your universal remote that likes to laugh at me, you constantly losing your reading glasses and then blaming me for it before you remember you left them on the table by the couch."

"Your total disregard for punctuality, and your desperate need to go play hockey at three o'clock in the morning, and your getting up at like, five am on Saturdays, and your _dogs_."

"Hey!" Jared says, chuckling. "You love my dogs."

"Yeah, that one wasn't really a complaint," Jensen admits.

"They miss you," Jared tells him knowledgeably, like he and Harley and Sadie have had long talks about it.

"Yeah," he says. "I miss them, too."

When Jensen doesn't say anything else, Jared taps his thumbs harder against the table and ducks his head to catch Jensen's eyes again.

"Seriously," he says. "You hate that apartment. You chose it because it was the only one Danny seemed even kind of interested in. You hate living downtown and you don't need to be all on your own."

"I am a grown man, Jay."

"Whatever," says Jared, selecting another chicken wing and waving it around importantly. " _I_ don't want to live alone anymore. I never really did. We have this whole co-dependent thing going that I've gotten kind of used to."

"You are the picture of mental health, Jared Padalecki."

"The house is huge. You hate your apartment. I've got room and this season might end us both if we don't find a way to work through it without killing each other and taking everyone else out with us."

"You think trapping us in a house together will make us less likely to kill each other?"

"Jensen," Jared says, like Jensen's being stupid on purpose. "You know we don't fight in front of the kids."

He's pretty sure that Harley and Sadie wouldn't really pay attention to them fighting, considering they spent an entire summer on the living room floor screaming at each other and Chris and Jeff and Chad and Jeff's girlfriend Hillarie over Xbox headsets, but he doesn't point it out. Jared's looking at him hopefully, and Jensen knows he's never really liked to be on his own, that the last six months without anyone around have probably been pretty uncomfortable for him. Jared's a social, tactile guy. So he tells himself that it's not because he's dreading going back to an empty apartment, and it's not because he misses how things were when they lived together, and it's sure as hell not because Jensen likes to be alone but usually only if it includes Jared—he's doing this for his friend. Clearly, Jared needs it.

"Okay," he says, and jabs his reacquired chicken wing in Jared's direction. "But the first time I trip over anything that's on the floor that's not supposed to be, I'm out."

"Deal," Jared says. They shake on it, and then high five.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Jensen moves in the next weekend. He trips over a basketball in the middle of the upstairs hallway at three o'clock in the morning his first night there, but beyond a rather furious drawing of a devil with Jared's hair and Misha-as-Cas smiting it that he leaves on a Post-It note on Jared's partially open bedroom door, he doesn't do a damn thing. Things are back to normal between them, better than they've been in months, and even if Dean is still drowning, and even if they still sometimes get snappy with each other because of twelve-hour days, and being so deep in Sam's and Dean's skins that they can't help it, it's easier to remember Genevieve's advice when Jared is lounging on the couch in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, playing Lego Batman and wearing socks with penguins on them: Jared isn't Sam, Jensen isn't Dean, and in the holy sanctuary that is their shared pad, Jensen'd do best to fucking remember it. 


	3. Chapter 3

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**SEASON EIGHT**

In the summer between season seven and season eight, Jensen gets to make a movie with Bruce Willis. Bruce _fucking_ Willis, who is just as cool in person as he seems on the big screen. As if that wasn't cool enough, Chris is in the movie too, and Jensen gets to spend almost three full months with one of his best friends that he barely gets to see anymore and Bruce Fucking Willis. It's awesome, and amazing, and a huge foot in the doorway, and one of the best summers Jensen remembers having ever. The only thing missing, of course, is Jared, but he's on a big family get away to Fiji to celebrate Megan's engagement and they still ended up talking on the phone at least once a day.

But by the time he makes it back to Vancouver, Chris in tow, two weeks before filming for season eight begins, he's man enough to admit that he's been jonesing for his best friend, and the sight of their stupid giant house, Jared's bigass truck, Misha's little, eco-friendly car, Tom's truck, Mike's convertible, and a mid-sized SUV rental that could only be Jeff's lifts a weight off his back he didn't know was there. Jared had been planning to fly in and spend a couple of weeks with Jensen and Chris in LA on his way back from the family trip, but hadn't been able to finagle it around meetings with his agent in Vancouver and filming for a cameo in The Big Bang Theory, where he got to play a physics nerd and mack on Kaley Cuoco.

So it's been like, months since Jensen's seen Jared, and Chris has been making fun of him for pining after his little woman for weeks, but whatever. You don't spend twenty-three hours a day with someone for eight months and then go off them cold turkey.

Misha is back for season eight, at least for the first few episodes, and Jeff and Hillarie are visiting because Jeff had some time off and Hillarie had a press panel in Vancouver for White Collar. Tom and Mike are spending the summer up here, working on a voice acting deal for a Smallville cartoon. Jared's been back for about three weeks, and Jensen's somehow woefully unsurprised that he's found a way to fill the house up in that amount of time.

"Home sweet home," Chris drawls, unfolding himself from the passenger seat and stretching hugely. 

Jensen lets himself out too, grins stupidly at the open front door, where the dogs have gathered at the closed screen door and are pressing their wet noses into the glass and barking, dancing around excitedly at the site of him. 

"Fuck," Chris says, shivering. It's late June in Vancouver, and about thirty degrees cooler than it was in LA. "It's fucking cold here."

Jensen rubs the side of his index finger of the side of his thumb and pouts his lips out. "You know what this is, Christian?"

"Fuck you," Chris says, grabbing a big duffel bag out of the back seat.

"This," explains Jensen, "is the worlds smallest violin, playing a sad, sad song, _just for you_."

"N'awww, look," Chris smirks, like he didn't hear Jensen at all, and points over Jensen's shoulder, "Jare-Bear."

Jensen turns around in time to see Jared's giant sasquatch body contorting around two very excitable dogs, and then the screen door is opening and Harley and Sadie are bounding out to greet him, and Jared's loping along behind them in a loose pair of jeans and a Ramones t-shirt, looking like just as much of a puppy as his dogs, grin wide and dimpled. The dogs get Jensen first, and he crouches down and croons at them a little bit, scratches Harley's ears and around Sadie's collar until Jared hauls him up by the scruff of his neck and gets him into a hug.

"Welcome home, asshole."

"Thanks, twat," Jensen grins back, and hugs Jared back just as hard. Jared smacks a kiss to the side of his head and Jensen rolls his eyes as he's let go of.

"Christian Kane!" Jared says, and, as Jensen watches, all but tries to climb Chris like a tree. Chris makes a face, but his eyes are crinkled with a smile, and he lets Jared hang off of him all arms and legs and coo about how much he's missed him in an obnoxious falsetto and tug on his ponytail for a few seconds before Chris shoves Jared off of him. By this time, Hillarie, Mike, Tom, Tom's wife Jaime, Misha, and Jeff have ambled out of the house to see what's taking so long. Jeff and Mike both have beers in hand, and Jaime's holding what appears to be a dirty martini. It's like, two in the afternoon. Jensen loves this place. He's all smiles as he shakes hands and gets pulled into hugs and kisses the ladies' cheeks.

"Dude," Mike says when he gets to him. Jared's worked his way back over, too, is standing at Jensen's side and engaged in a serious and seriously loud conversation about Gears of War with Jaime, both of them talking intensely with their hands. "Bruce Willis. _Noice._ "

"I fucking know, right?" says Jensen, trying not to gloat too much. He really isn't a braggy kind of guy. Really. He just can't help it, and something about being around Mike gets Jensen foul-mouthed. It's an unexplained phenomenon. Mike cocks an eyebrow at him and grins, rolls his eyes and pulls him in, claps him hard on the back.

Jared takes most of Jensen's crap out of the car, so Jensen grabs his carry-on and follows him in, everyone else striding inside single-file like a group of school kids behind them. He's tired from all the traveling, but he's glad everyone is here, too. 

Within ten minutes, Jensen's got a cold beer and his favorite spot on the couch and Sadie right up next to him. His best friends are here and he's home, and it's really fucking nice. He hasn't seen Jeff and Hillarie in forever, and they're just as perfect as ever. Hillarie gushes about Gus and Jeff is even worse about it, pictures of the kid popping up every eight seconds by the time they're all settling into the living room. Jensen's met Gus twice. Once right after he was born and then about six months back. He's a chubby toddler with Jeff's dark hair and Hillarie's big eyes, possibly the most adorable kid in the whole world, and he pronounces Jensen's name "Jensub". It's precious. And Jensen's not even really all that great with kids.

"We were discussing Tom and Mike eloping," Jaime tells him seriously when she drops down next to them, holding a handful of miniature jelly beans delicately in her palm and sending shifty looks around the room every time she eats one, like maybe they might belong to someone else. "Before you interrupted us, I mean."

Jensen grins around the mouth of his beer bottle and peers over at Tom and Mike, both in matching armchairs side-by-side. Mike looks pleased, and Tom gives a long-suffering sigh.

"She just wants to see us make out," he tells Jensen sympathetically.

"In her defense," Hillarie pipes up, "I'd like to see that too."

"We all would," Jared adds immediately, but then he looks over at Jaime curiously. "Would you be willing to make out with Mike, also? Like a threesome?"

Jaime seems to consider that, eyeing Mike up and down where he sits in one of the armchairs pulled in from the den. "He does have some very nice qualities."

"I'm delightful," Mike tells the room at large.

"He is," Misha adds, and he and Mike fist-bump. Ever since the night of one very memorable party in which Mike or Misha (no one knows who was behind the wheel), both intensely drunk, drove a golf cart into a hotel swimming pool, they've become lifelong friends.

Misha's on his back on the floor near Mike's chair. He smelled like weed when Jensen hugged him, and he seems pretty goddamn mellow, not to mention he's got a three pound bag of jelly beans like the ones Jaime must have stolen open on his chest and is steadily working his way through them. Jensen nudges him with his foot and Misha bats a lazy hand at him.

"I suppose I could do that, yeah," Jaime says finally, nodding, and Jensen turns to look at her again. She's so gorgeous that sometimes when she and Tom are hanging with them, Jensen and Jared have to go into the kitchen and giggle like idiots about how they've got a supermodel in their house. She looks between Mike and Tom again, stern this time. "But no further than that. I'd need to be taken somewhere nice before I put out."

She and Mike share identical grins and look at Tom, who shakes his head with a rueful smile, like he's sorry to disappoint them.

"No," he says.

"He'll come around," Mike assures Jaime, who nods her agreement.

"I really won't," says Tom.

"Shh," Jaime replies, smiling at him soothingly. "There, there, Tommy." Tom tosses his hands up in a useless gesture and goes to grab himself another drink. Jensen, still grinning, jabs a finger at Jeff, who's sitting with his girl on the loveseat catty-corner to him.

"I watched Magic City while I was in LA, man, it was fuckin' awesome."

Jeff smiles and ducks his head modestly, which makes Hillarie smile and pat at his arm. "Thanks," Jeff says. "I'm really enjoying it."

"It's amazing," Jared pipes in, kind of gushing. Jared is big on supporting his friends in their endeavors, but his giant mancrush on Jeff makes it all the more enthusiastic, and Jensen has to bite his lip not to laugh. "It's so awesome," Jared goes on. "So slick, y'know? I already pre-ordered it on Blu-Ray."

"You didn't have to do that, Jay," Jeff says easily, and Jensen shares his amused grin with Hillarie, who's looking at Jared like he's precious. "I'll give it to you for free when it comes out."

"Whatever," Jared says.

"I'm glad you're having fun with it, man," Jensen tells Jeff. Jeff's a good guy, and Jensen's thrilled that his careers taken off like it has.

"I really am."

"Not as much as playing John Winchester, of course," Jared says sternly. He's in his favorite recliner, but he's kind of folded himself over the arm so he can poke at Chris repeatedly. Chris hasn't slept in almost two days and Jensen see's that, now, classy fucker that he is, Chris is apparently trying make up for it by ignoring everyone around him and passing out in the corner seat of the couch. Jared, his attention returned to Jeff, yelps when he pokes Chris in the cheek and Chris bites his finger.

"It's true," Jeff deadpans. "John Winchester was the pinnacle of my career."

Jensen snorts a laugh and turns to Jared, about to say something, but the thought leaves him. Tom is still resisting Jaime's casual prodding him toward Mike, Jeff answers a call, and Jensen just ends up watching him for a second instead. Jared's moving a little weird, a little different, though Jensen can't pinpoint how, exactly. He settles himself back into his seat and grins over at Jensen when he catches him looking, and Jensen can't shake the feeling that something's a little off, even though Jared's smile looks the same as ever, huge and dimpled and dopey.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, under the cover of the others who are talking amongst themselves now.

"Yeah," Jared answers, and smiles bright, but that's more of a give than anything..

"He's just missed his baby," Chris murmurs, patting Jensen on the leg, though he doesn't bother to even open his eyes.

"I can't live without you, Jensen," Jared agrees dramatically. "And god knows I'll never be in a Bruce Willis movie, so you can't be in anymore either. I'm trapping you here with me forever."

"Sure thing."

"Oh, hey!" Jared says, excited, just like he does every year around this time. "Have you read the script for the first episode yet

Jensen grins. Jared's patterns are like his patterns now. "Yeah."

"Dude," Jared says.

"I know," replies Jensen.

Season eight is gonna rock.

It's a good, relaxing afternoon all in all. Chris gives it up at around eight and heads up to his usual guest room to pass out, and they move out onto the big back deck after that. Jensen lights the Tiki lamp things to keep the mosquitoes at bay and Jared orders a few pizzas. It's nice, just hanging around and talking to these people he doesn't get to see enough of anymore, but by the time Jared unceremoniously kicks everyone out around eleven-thirty, Jensen's more than ready for the quiet that descends.

He has plans to clean up, but instead as soon as Jared shuts the front door behind Jeff and Hilary, Jensen collapses onto the couch and closes his eyes. Sadie jumps up almost immediately and turns in two circles before curling up on top of Jensen's back, and he snorts a quiet laugh into the plush of the cushion.

"N'aww, she missed you," Jared coos from somewhere nearby. He must be bending down, because his voice is too close to be all the way up where his mouth normally is, but Jensen doesn't have the reserves left to open his eyes.

"S'good to be home," he murmurs thickly. "LA sucks."

"Bitch, please, you just couldn't go another day without me."

"That too," Jensen says, very dry. The next second Jared's giant hand is ruffling his hair. Jensen makes an unhappy noise and bats at it lethargically and listens to Jared laugh.

He kind of drifts after that, vaguely aware of Jared moving around, the clink of beer bottles and the crunch of wrappers being balled up. Jared is far from a clean freak, but he's got obsessive compulsive tendencies about some weird stuff. His DVDs and Blu-Rays are all in perfect alphabetical order by genre in the entertainment center and he flips out if one gets put back wrong, but he regularly leaves the boxes out and the discs all over the place and that doesn't seem to bother him at all. And he's perfectly fine leaving clean dishes in the dishwasher or the drainer in the sink for literally months at a time, but he's taken some kind of sworn oath to never let bugs in the house, so anything with food or drink on it gets washed under scalding water right away.

Jensen starts to feel guilty after a while, so he reluctantly shifts around until Sadie jumps down and gets up to help finish up. The coffee table is still a wreck, but the kitchen is clean when Jensen takes an armful of beer bottles and candy wrappers and snack bowls and cups in. He unloads the dishwasher and is loading it back up when Jared returns from the back deck, paper plates and pizza boxes in hand.

"Ah, you didn't have to get up, man. You look beat."

"I look _awesome_ ," Jensen corrects.

Jared bats his eyelashes at him and Jensen throws a wet dishcloth that hits Jared smack in the mouth, cutting off Jared's ridiculous laugh. Jared just tosses it back to him and ducks out the garage door to take the boxes to the recycle bin.

It takes another twenty minutes to get everything squared away, but once it's done it feels nice and clean in the house and Jensen gratefully slumps back into his usual seat on the couch and Jared sinks into his recliner with a gratified sigh. The TV is still on, one of the Spaghetti westerns with the volume on low, and Jensen's about to steal the remote from the arm of Jared's chair to turn it up, but he gets caught up in just looking at Jared instead. Jared's eyes are open but unseeing like he's lost in thought, and he's drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. He's been doing it all day, kind of zoning out and back in, more listening to the conversations going on around him than joining in much, and he's carrying himself a little different, hunching his shoulders, more Sam than Jared. He looks stressed and something just seems kind of off about him. It makes concern nag at the back of Jensen's mind.

"Hey."

Jared blinks back into focus and rolls his head along the back of his chair to look at him, lips curling up into an apologetic grin.

"Fuck, man, sorry. Kind of out of it."

"Yeah, I noticed," Jensen frowns, watches Jared scratch idly at the side of his neck, a nervous tick he's pretty familiar with. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jared says, too fast, and then winces and grins again. He flicks his hair out of the way and waves a dismissive hand. "I mean, yeah, I'm all right."

"Uh huh," says Jensen. "You wanna tell me what's up? Somethin' happen?"

He expects Jared to come back with negative almost immediately, but Jared hesitates. He swipes his thumb over his chin and tilts his head, shoves a hand through his hair to get it out of the way again and gamely meets Jensen's eyes. "I had kind of a shitty summer."

Jensen raises both eyebrows. "In Fiji?"

"No, after that."

"Are you okay?" Jensen asks again, even more worried now.

"Yeah," Jared says, and the smile he offers is sincere. "Really, yeah. I just. I can't really talk about it."

"Like it's not your story to tell?"

"No. Nah, it's definitely mine. I just. I can't—" He stops there and shrugs, sheepish, but Jensen gets it. It doesn't do anything to assuage his concern, just ratchets it up a few notches, but he gets it.

"Hey, I understand," he says. "Really. Just, y'know, if you need to talk..."

"I know," Jared says, and this time his grin is all dimples. "Thanks."

"S'what I'm here for."

"That's you. Roommate. Friend. Residential therapist."

Jensen grins and snatches the remote off the chair. Jared looks a little more relaxed, but he's still tight around the eyes and shoulders. Jensen turns the volume on the TV up to keep himself from asking again.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Jared drinks protein shakes. They are _foul_ , and smell awful, and Jensen doesn't want to know what the fuck kind of messed up shit Jared puts in there, so he doesn't ask. He has one every morning and has since the beginning of Season three when he started beefing up. To puree whatever it is he's mixing up, he uses a blender that's older than both of them that once belonged to his parents. Three years ago, the on/off button got stuck in a permanent on position that neither Jared nor Jensen nor their combined super hero muscles could fix. Instead of buying a new blender, like Jensen suggested, Jared unplugs it from the wall to turn it off. The blender is almost forty years old though, and the cord is more than a little messed up. Every time Jared plugs it back in the morning, it shocks the holy crap out of him, and he makes the same noise every time like it's some sort of surprise.

It's what Jensen comes downstairs to on the first morning on filming. Jared in running shorts and shoes, shirtless, bouncing on the balls of his feet and sucking on the tip of his wounded finger while the blender runs deafeningly, rattling in its spot on the kitchen counter.

"You should get a new blender," Jensen tells him.

"Sorry!" Jared shouts over the noise. "I can't hear you!"

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

The first week of filming is pretty chill. They film the episode that Jensen is directing first, which is naturally pretty Sam and Cas heavy. It's got a nice balance of comedic relief and campy horror and drama. Dean's missing, Sam and Cas are awkward and overly-polite to one another while Sam spends a lot of time panicking. It's a lot of fun. Jensen kind of loves it, loves working behind the scenes and watching these fuckers he works with everyday bring his vision to life and shit. It's good and satisfying and exhausting.

So when they wrap, it's on a Friday night and they get the weekend off. Jensen walks inside, drops his wallet and keys on the table just inside the door, and collapses onto the couch, picks up the remote, and turns the TV on.

Jared has this giant rocker/recliner in the living room. It's dark brown worn leather and could easily fit two people. From what Jensen understands, it's a very comfortable chair, but he wouldn't actually know because Jared doesn't let anyone else sit in it if he's around. He's been known to toss grown men out of it by the scruff of the neck. It's like, his throne or something. He doesn't usually sit anywhere else.

So when he drops down on the couch next to Jensen instead of into his usual spot, Jensen quirks an eyebrow at him, looks exaggeratedly at the chair, and then back at Jared, who rounds his eyes out and makes kissy noises at him. Jensen rolls his eyes and hands Jared the remote. He's just been flipping. There's not a damn thing on. They always seem to get home from work after the good primetime shows are over, and neither of them can work the DVR to save their lives.

Predictably, Jared flips it to the Food Network. Just in time to catch sight of some cooking host handling a really big cucumber as she addresses the audience. Jensen stares, mouth dropped open a little, eyebrows drawing together.

"Uh."

"Wow. That's a little...phallic."

"Dude, it's a cucumber."

"That's she's _fondling_."

It's true enough, or at least it looks like that, and she is talking about its size, though in context it isn't nearly as dirty. He shakes his head solemnly. "You need to get laid, man."

"You have no idea how bad I need to get laid," Jared agrees, mock-glum.

Jensen snorts, feels his cheeks redden a little for no apparent reason. The woman on the screen has circled her fingers around the middle of the cucumber and is dragging them up. Jared, giant prick that he is, rewinds the live feed and puts it back on in slow motion.

"Shit, Jared, you're like four years old."

"And cucumbers are funny," Jared snickers. "You're just jealous it's not you. I know you've got a thing for Giada."

"Tch. I'm bigger than that thing."

There's a beat of silence, which is very offensive, and then Jared laughs, which is even more offensive, so Jensen punches him in the arm.

"No way," says Jared. "That's not even like. Possible. It wouldn't fit in your pants."

Jensen opens his mouth to say something no doubt witty and hilarious, but when he looks at Jared, Jared's gaze is directly on Jensen's crotch, and the words get lost in Jensen's throat. And, naturally, because it's been months since anyone has paid any attention to his crotch, there's some interest there. Jensen shifts surreptitiously and wishes the overhead light was off, but it's not. It's on. It's on and it's bright and Jensen's sitting in the living room getting hard next to his best friend because of some cucumber fondling on the Food Network.

Sometimes, living with Jared, he has trouble believing that this is his real life.

"I am totally bigger than that thing," he says abruptly. Jared tilts his head, still scrutinizing. Jensen reaches out to tap his cheek pointedly. "Hey, eyes up here."

"I'm just doing the physics," Jared tells him.

"Your staring at my _dick_ ," Jensen tells him, in case he didn't realize. "Take your physics, like, elsewhere."

"Just, here," Jared says, and reaches for his groin.

"Hey, what're you—"

Jared's hand touches his thigh, and Jensen's dick is definitely all over that, kind of twitching against the seam of his jeans. He looks down at Jared's hand and then up at Jared's face, and Jared's eyes are kind of dark, his expression interested. It's so completely unexpected that Jensen's not entirely sure what to say, or do, when Jared shifts around, pulls both legs up onto the couch and kneels, facing him now. Jared's hand is still on his thigh.

When Jensen was fourteen, he figured out that he was bisexual when he and one of his friends kind of learned to jerk off together. This feels kind of like that moment, except that he's thirty-four and this is _Jared_ , so it's a monumentally bigger deal. He can't stop his eyes from lowering, cutting across to the very obvious bulge in Jared's jeans and _Christ_.

"Did I just make this awkward?" Jared asks.

" _Yes!_ " Jensen hisses vehemently, but he's twisting at the hips just a little to get closer and Jared's hand is hot and huge on his leg. He curls his fingers around the sharp jut of Jared's hipbone and Jared moves his body into the touch like a cat, his eyes going darker. His tongue swipes out across his lips and Jensen tilts his head to the side cautiously. This is new. And weird. His heart is pounding in his chest and when Jared's free hand curves around the back of Jensen's neck Jensen lets out a soft, slow breath.

"Is this okay?" Jared asks. His voice is quiet, like if he speaks too loud it'll mess something up.

Jensen just breathes, "Yeah," and Jared starts to pull at the button of Jensen's jeans and the tab of his zipper.

"Is this—"

"Stop asking that," Jensen cuts him off. "Just—"

Jared's hand is huge and _hot_ when it curls around Jensen's dick, which fattens right up as what little blood wasn't already there surges to his groin. Jensen's jeans are open and his boxers are shoved down and Jared's hand is right there, touching him, on him. Jensen shudders out a harsh breath and works at the fastenings of Jared's jeans too.

Somewhere between the shock and the haze of pleasure and Giada's rambling about the damn cucumber salad she's making, Jensen takes the time to appreciate—somewhat startled—that Jared has clearly done this before. Not with Jensen, obviously, but with someone, because there's nothing inexperienced about the way he's working Jensen's dick. He palms over the head and Jensen jerks his hips up into it, mouth open, eyes wide on Jared. His hand isn't exactly shaking by the time he works Jared's jeans open and gets his hand inside, but it's a close thing.

And of course, Jared's cock is just as big as the rest of him, hard as diamond in Jensen's hand and precome smears over Jensen's fingers when they curl over the head. Jared makes this noise in his throat, this low, hot noise that he cuts off hard and Jensen watches him swallow. Jensen hasn't done this in a long time, and what nerves he should be feeling are all infused with this blinking neon "this is Jared this is Jared this is Jared" sign.

It doesn't last long, especially after they shift around and Jensen's lying back on the couch and Jared's bracing himself up on one arm over him, and they're both sweaty and panting and biting their lips on quiet little sounds of pleasure. Jared does this thing with the pad of his thumb over Jensen's dick, the tips of his fingers scrubbing lightly at the base and Jensen's gone. His eyes roll back in his head so hard it hurts and something hot and electric surges through him, pleasure so intense it makes his back arch. He comes hard, all over Jared's hand and not even a second later, pumping Jared through the slick of precome, feels Jared shudder and go still, cock pulsing in Jensen's grip before he's losing it with a rough, hot sound.

After, they can't even really look at each other. Jensen has no idea what he's feeling except for sated and honestly really good, partially terrified, and still kind of turned on. Jared is wiping Jensen's come unceremoniously on his own jeans and Jensen is slowly sitting up.

"So," Jared says, clearing his throat. They both look around on the TV at the same time. Giada is sharing the cucumber salad she made with her husband. Jensen is torn between hysterical laughter and the need to flee. The latter ends up winning, for both of them.

Jared says, "I'm gonna go to bed," right as Jensen says, "I'm gonna hit the sack." Normally, Jared would come back with a "that's what she said", but instead they stare at each other in silence for a few seconds and then rise from the couch at the same time.

Jensen is nowhere near sleep when Jared creeps in at almost four in the morning. He does let Jared stand there awkward and uncertain at the foot of the bed for a few seconds before he shuffles over onto one side and Jared climbs on and drops like a rock, stretched out over the covers on his back next to Jensen.

"I made things weird," he says solemnly.

"Well, yeah," says Jensen, fake-yawning.

"I'm freaking out a little."

"Mm."

Jared's quiet for a few seconds. Jensen counts them down in his head, he's right on the money when he hits zero and Jared says, "You're freaking out too, right?"

"Maybe. A little."

"A lot."

"Fuck you, okay? Yes, a lot."

"Because I'm a guy?"

"Is that why you're freaking out?"

"No."

"You go first."

Jared takes a deep breath and then says, very quietly and kind of awed, "You _jerked me off_."

Jensen props himself up on his elbows, disbelief making his jaw drop as he sends Jared an indignant look. "I did no—You _started it!_ "

"I know!" Jared says, and he's flailing a little, big hands all over the place, "I know, God! I just. I just _wanted to_ and then I _did_ and then _you_ did. But still, man, you— _you_ —jerked me off!"

"You jerked _me_ off!" Jensen argues. Or at least he thinks he's arguing. He's not real sure what Jared's point is.

"I know!" Jared's voice is getting louder, and then he's laughing a little. Jensen sits up all the way and shoves at him, disgruntled.

"God, you're such a fuckin'—"

"I didn't know you were like, bi," Jared says after he gets himself under control.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know you were."

"Mm."

It's awkward again, silent between them. Jared's breathing in and out slowly and Jensen's sitting there, wrapped in blankets, t-shirt all bunched up around his middle.

"So," he says.

Jared looks at him through wide eyes, lips pulled into a small grin. "I didn't like. I didn't just mess up our friendship forever, right?"

It's instantaneous: Jensen goes soft inside like a S'more and shakes his head, reaching out to flick Jared hard in the neck so that Jared squawks. He does it a lot. It will never stop being hilarious. He's smiling wide as he says, "No, asswipe, of course not."

"Good," Jared says, rubbing at his neck.

"But we're still freaking out."

"Right. Right. So we just won't do it again, right? Easy."

Jensen nods. Totally acceptable plan. "Easy."

It's settled. Jared toddles off back to his own bed and Jensen finally manages to fall asleep. Done deal.

Except that they spend the entire next morning making awkward small talk around the obnoxious noise of Jared's broken blender and the inexplicable buzzing sound the toaster's started making. And then they're passing each other right in front of the island, squished in close between the stools and the opposite counter. Jensen looks up at Jared, and Jared looks down at Jensen. Jared's lips are parted. Jensen can feel warm breath on his own. It smells like coffee and Jared's foul protein shake and cinnamon toast and Jared's solid and like a furnace and all the blood in Jensen's body is rushing to his dick.

"We were delirious last night, right?" Jared says, his hand lifting from his side, fingers curling around Jensen's hip. Jensen twists a little, aligns them better.

"Yeah," he breathes.

They last a total of three seconds before Jensen's reaching into Jared's sweats and Jared's sliding his hand inside Jensen's boxers. Jared pins Jensen hard against the island, keeps his other hand right on Jensen's hip and Jensen fists his hand in Jared's t-shirt and closes his eyes, feels Jared's eyelashes brush against his cheek when he growls out a low moan of pleasure and drops his forehead to Jensen's.

After, both of them sticky and sated and their knees touching on the floor, Jensen awkwardly holds out the hand covered in Jared's come and clears his throat.

"It doesn't have to be weird," he says.

Jared quirks an eyebrow. He's still breathing kind of heavy, and his cheeks are flushed pink, his lip bitten and swollen, and he's got Jensen's _come_ on his hand.

"Right," says Jared. "We might be rationalizing. A little."

"It's okay. We're best friends."

"I like you. You like me—"

"We're not an after school special, Jared."

"Whatever," Jared says, waves his come-slick hand in the air between them. "It's cool. It's okay. It feels good. It's just. A hobby."

"A hobby."

"That we share."

Jensen stares at him for a long time. Jared looks blissed out and worried and hopeful all at once. Jensen's feels the phantom-memory of Jared's hand on his dick and nods seriously. "Right. Okay."

"Okay."

And that's that.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Sam is on the ground next to him, kneeling over him. Dean is spread out and twisted on smooth stone floor, back arching, tears on his cheeks. He can taste blood in his mouth, metallic and vile and suffocating, can feel the impossible, throbbing ache in his gut where more blood is pumping over his kid brother's hand in a rush of red. Sam is talking, knows that this isn't real, that it can't be real, that somewhere in this same place under this same curse Dean—the real Dean—is kneeling over Sam and trying to stop the bleeding just the same. But it's hard to see it and not react, and Sam is murmuring _'no'_ and _'God, Dean, please, please'_ over and over again.

Dean feels clammy and cold and sweat-slick and out of breath. His lips are chapped and sticky under the blood. He swipes at his brother, tries to touch, and Sam catches his hand and presses down against the wound hard, and Dean throws his head back and _screams_.

It's not enough, won't be enough, too much blood gone, nothing Sam can do. Half of Dean's side is gone from the bite. He's pretty sure he can see his internal organs. He tilts his head and gurgles a sound and closes his eyes and goes lax. Sam is crying, pleading, shaking him.

Ben calls cut five minutes later, after redoing the shot of Sam's grief when Dean dies again, four times so he could get different angles, and Jensen opens his eyes immediately and looks up at Jared, who's pale and shocky, face wet with tears and eyes red from the tear stick. His mouth is kind of slack, his expression almost waxen. Jensen spits the blood pill out of his mouth and sits up carefully, back aching from writhing around on the ground for so long. The crew is moving around them, changing sets. Jared nailed the take.

"Jay?" Jensen says, voice hoarse from screaming. He clears his throat, and Jared doesn't respond, eyes far away. Jensen gets it, is about to have to go through it himself, again. Both Dean and Sam are cursed after all, finding a way to gank the bad guy while hallucinating the morbid torture or death of the one they hold dearest over and over again. They've been filming it for three days. Jensen hasn't been so deep down in Dean since the second season finale, having to look at Jared as Sam lying there pale and dead, or maybe season four, which he still sometimes has weird nightmares about. It's been painful, and almost impossible to shake off. He and Jared have been sticking even closer together than usual because of it. 

When Jared still doesn't move, just kneels there blinking at nothing, Jensen grips his shoulder carefully. "Uh, Sam?"

Jared's eyes focus, and his mouth pulls into a tiny smirk that looks painful. "Not that far gone," he says, voice quiet and wrecked. Jensen breathes a sigh of relief and grips him under the arm, hauls him up as he stands too. Jared doesn't wobble, but Jensen keeps a hand on his arm anyway, like he might. Sometimes it's really striking how insane this job is, how this kind of weird overemotional bullshit is something they have to deal with and get each other through on a regular basis.

For the next six hours, they watch each other get hurt over and over again, fatally or just the kind that makes them scream and scream and scream from the pain of it. Jensen gets slammed into a lot of walls and rocks and spongy spikes, and Jared gets cords and cloth and hands and wires wrapped around his neck repeatedly. It's a lot of hard, physical work. It's even harder, more emotional work. By the time Ben calls it a night, Jensen is so wrung out, eyes puffy from crying all day and burning from the tear stick and his mouth tastes awful from all the fake blood. Dean has this shadow all wrapped around him, hurting, like usual, but so much deeper than normal, watching his baby brother get hurt a very particular kind of torture that Hell didn't really ever reach.

He doesn't really speak to anyone, just heads back to his trailer and strips down out of Dean's clothes (clean ones, this time, they ended on a scene with Sam's gory fake-death, and takes a short but pleasantly scalding shower and brushes his teeth. He feels mildly more himself once he's clean and back in his own jeans and sweater, but it's still like he's falling, the ground rushing up to meet him and neither the ability nor the will to find a way to stop the downward spiral.

Jared's already in the car, hair damp from his own shower, slumped into his seat with his eyes open and unseeing again. He offers Jensen a tired, completely fake grin, but Jensen just shakes his head and grips his wrist momentarily before dropping into the seat next to him.

They're silent on the ride home, but it's like they can't stop looking at each other. When they get home, they stumble up the driveway together, Jared's hand curled in Jensen's jacket, Jensen's fingers hooked into the pocket of Jared's. The dogs are barking a greeting from the other side of the door, but Casey—Jared's dog walker girl—has already been by this evening to let them out and feed them, so when Jared shakily shoves his key in the door and opens it, they don't make it further than the foyer before Jared is crowding Jensen against the wall and pressing into him.

Jensen's hard in seconds, maybe has been since he got in the car. He's overwhelmed and stressed and lost in Dean's head, lost in his own. This is Jared. This is his best fucking friend, and they haven't touched each other like this in a couple of weeks, since they gave each other permission and that paradoxically made it something more forbidden. It's dark in the entryway, intense in the shadows and the familiarity, the way Jared smells like soap and cologne and shampoo when Jensen pushes his fingers into Jared's damp hair and hooks his fingers into one of Jared's belt loops.

"Jen," says Jared, his voice kind of low and rough, his breath minty from toothpaste. He's huge, tall and so fucking built, pushing into Jensen until they're locked chest to hips to knees. Jensen swallows hard, tilts his head back against the wall. He can feel his dick throb in his jeans, can feel the long, thick line of Jared's against his thigh. It feels good. Jared is here, right here with him and it's grounding. He's warm and alive and not screaming and not bloody and he's _Jared_ , not Sam, and it's _Jensen_ , not Dean. Jared's big hand cups at his face, fingers dragging slow and light down his jaw, and Jared drops his chin, presses his forehead to Jensen and he rocks his hips.

Jensen makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, tangles his hand in the back of Jared's shirt and Jared pushes his free hand down to tug at the button of Jensen's jeans.

"Jesus," Jensen breathes. Jared's teeth sink into his bottom lip and he blinks, his eyelashes brushing Jensen.

"Just. I just need. Want to. This okay?"

"Fuck," Jensen answers, reaching for Jared's waistband now too, tugging. "Yeah, yeah. Let's." 

Jared's hand is huge and so warm when it eases under the waistband of his boxer-briefs and grips him. Jensen stutters out a harsh breath, moans quiet and guttural and fucks his hips forward into Jared's hand. Jared makes an approving, agreeable sound. Jensen wets his lips—his mouth is suddenly so dry—and finally gets Jared's jeans undone, gets his hands in there. Jared's dick is hard and throbbing, already wet with pre-come. He must've been up in the car, too.

The angst and stress and need sizzles like electricity, shoots sparks between them. They jerk each other off quick and a little rough, clothes caught between them and nothing to ease the slide of dry flesh on dry flesh, and it's so fucking good Jensen can feels his eyes rolling back in his head. Jared's still right there, up against him, forehead pressed now to Jensen's temple so he can look down at them, watch his hand shift up and down and down and down in Jensen's jeans. It's awkward at first, relearning each other, but Jensen knows what he likes, thinks he knows what feels good for Jared, so he does those things, palms over the head and traces the vein on the underside and pushes his fingertips against the root, and Jared shudders and swipes his thumb over the slit of Jensen's dick, pumps him just rough enough, just easy enough.

It's too much, all of it, and Jensen breaks just seconds after Jared does, feels Jared swell up fat and thick and then shoot off in long, wet pulses against his palm and spills out hot and messy all over Jared's hand in his underwear. It lasts for a long time, the shocks of pleasure that roll through, spark at the base of his spine and roll up through his body and out to every extremity.

He's panting for breath when he comes down, and Jared is kind of slumped against him, breathing hard and red-faced from exertion, his hand on Jensen's neck now, his thumb rubbing slow and kind of soothing over the hollow of Jensen's throat. Jensen untangles his hand from Jared's t-shirt, rest his palm on his back, instead, and Jared arches into it like a cat.

He makes a quiet noise when Jared pulls his hand away from Jensen's over-sensitive skin and peels himself off Jensen's body when Jensen takes his own hand back. Their jeans are still open, and Jensen has no trouble meeting Jared's eyes. He's worried about what he'll find there, but Jared just looks sated and lazy and a little worried.

"Uh," Jared says eloquently.

"Yeah," Jensen agrees.

"That, uh. That just happened. Again."

"Yup."

They stare at each other for a long time. Jensen feels utterly relaxed in a way he hasn't since they started filming the episode. Dean is quiet and gone, and he's tired and he aches but it's all in a good way now. That was really rather cathartic. Jared looks better too, his shoulders not pulled so tight, the tension eased out of his back.

"It's okay."

Jensen tilts his head to the side, grins a little. His hand is gross. So is Jared's. He likes the way Jared looks like this, tousled and rumpled. He's not used to seeing new sides of Jared.

"Yeah," he says. He tips his head back to smack lightly against the wall and swallows, nods again. "Yeah, I know."

It's not something they really talk about ever, but next week he gets Jared up against the fridge, and a week and a half after that, they jerk each other off with a growing familiarity against the TV of all places. They don't stop doing it over the next few months. It's not really sex. It's as innocent as it can be and well-meaning and fun like everything between them always is. 

If he's being honest with himself, which why not, he likes this arrangement with Jared. He likes it a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

Jared finds the light switch on an uneventful weeknight at the end of October.

They're in the living room, and Jensen is very, very comfortable.

He is, in fact, quite possibly the most comfortable he's ever been in his entire life, slumped into the oversized couch with a warm and sleepy dog propping him up on one side. He's in loose pajama pants and a t-shirt, has a soft, grandmother-made afghan wrapped around him like a toga, and his sock-clad feet are propped up on a pillow on top of the low coffee table. Some martial arts movie is on the giant flat-screen hanging on the wall, and the volume's turned down low, so there's only a rumble of voices speaking in Chinese that's strangely soothing. He's not bothering to read the subtitles, couldn't care any less about what's actually happening on-screen. He's warm in his blanket and the ceiling fan hanging from the vaulted ceiling above is on and it's just enough movement in the air to make it so it's not too stagnant. The overhead light is on, which throws a glare on the TV and is all around too bright, but it's just enough to keep him awake and Jensen's not quite ready to actually sleep yet anyway.

Sadie, next to him, snorts in her sleep when a clatter sounds from the other side of the room, and Jensen rolls his head laboriously where it rests against the gushy back of the couch to look at Jared across the room. Well, at Jared's legs, since that's all he can see. He's on the floor, the upper half of his body wedged in behind a huge solid maple bookshelf. It's a heavy piece of furniture. So heavy that Jared with all his many giant man muscles was only able to drag one side of it away from the wall, and just that took a lot out of him. Jensen'd watched from his spot on the couch. It looked pretty exhausting.

He doesn't remember what Jared said he dropped back there who knows how long ago, something he was tossing around or one of the dog's toys, and he has absolutely no idea why now, at 11:30 at night, Jared's decided he just has to retrieve the thing that rolled under there like three weeks ago. Whatever. Jared's a quirky guy. Jensen usually just rolls with it.

Jared's legs are kind of kicking at random intervals, like he thinks he might be able to swim further back behind the bookshelf. It doesn't work, but his feet are up in the air and he's wearing socks that have pigs on them and if nothing else it's mesmerizing to watch them wave back and forth.

"I think I almost— _ow!_ —" Jared's muffled voice trails off into muttered swearing and Jensen winces. It's the third time Jared's smacked his head with a pretty solid crack against either the wall or the back of the bookshelf. Harley, sitting loyally a few feet away from Jared's swinging feet, barks at the threat to his human, which makes Sadie give a half-hearted whuff in support, which jars Jensen where he's leaning most of his body weight against her.

"Dude," Jensen gripes, feeling sleepy. "You're gonna give yourself a concussion. Get outta there."

"Almost got it!" Jared says. "Just a little further...C'mon, baby, you know you want me. C'mere, come to daddy, that's right."

Jensen rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. "That's completely pornographic."

Jared must say something, but it's low and muttered and muffled. His cry of triumph comes through loud and clear though, and Harley barks again, happily this time. Jensen watches Jared's ass lift into the air as he gets up onto his knees and then dislodges himself from behind the bookcase, sitting back on his heels. He's red-faced and his hair is something truly spectacular from the static, but he's smiling in this way that's entirely too smug considering all he's got in his palm is an ugly tie-dye bouncy ball that looks like it came from a vending machine at the grocery store. Jensen can't even think of anything to say. Jared just spent the last forty-five minutes hauling a completely packed solid wood bookshelf away from the wall and then squirming around on the floor digging through dust for a bouncy ball. He has no words.

"Don't judge me," Jared says, and Jensen doesn't even bother to school his features. Jared totally deserves the look Jensen's giving him right now.

"Dude," he says again. He's in a 'dude' kind of mood, feeling a little California beach beatnik tonight.

Jared just grins at him and then starts to coo at Harley, who's all over him, licking at his face and his neck and the dusty ball in his hand. He scratches at Harley's ears and chest and sides, and then belly when Harley drops to the floor and rolls over onto his back, and Jensen rolls his eyes at both of them.

"Dogs," he says to Sadie, who looks up at him commiseratively. Jensen pats her head with the hand not cocooned in his afghan and watches Jared get to his feet, the ball now rolling across the floor to dink into the leg of the coffee table and come to a stop. Harley follows it, slobbers all over it, and then lies down on top of it. Jensen looks at him fondly and then back over at Jared.

"Hey," Jared says, sounding surprised and partially disappearing behind the bookshelf again, though at least this time he's on his feet. "There's a light switch back here!"

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. "You didn't know that?"

"No," Jared says, and then pokes his head out to look at Jensen suspiciously. "You did?"

"No, but I was in LA when you moved in."

"Oh," Jared says, looking disappointed. "The movers moved this in and put it here. I just never moved it. It's like, nine hundred thousand pounds."

"Wah," Jensen says helpfully around a jaw-cracking yawn.

"I wonder what it does," Jared murmurs, and Jensen hears the flick of a light switch. He looks around as much as he can without having to lift his head, mildly curious, but nothing happens. Jared looks around too, up at the fan which is still on and the overhead light, also still on, and then he squints across the room toward the foyer and the front door to see if the porch light turned on, but it didn't. He looks disappointed. Jensen's mouth pulls into a small grin.

"It's probably just an extra switch, man," he says.

"It must do something," Jared insists. "It wouldn't just be here."

"Sure it would. Maybe the previous owners renovated or something, and never hooked that back up to anything."

"Maybe your _face_ ," Jared says, and Jensen flips him off lazily. Jared flips the switch on and off a few more times, scowls at it when nothing happens, and then lets it go. He walks across the room to flip the switch that turns the overhead light off and then wanders back to sit in the over-stuffed recliner he was in before he decided that bouncy ball retrieval was necessary _right the fuck now_. Jensen turns his head to look at him, pressing his cheek against the soft upholstery.

"S'gonna drive you crazy, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Jared says. He shuffles his legs, straightening his loose sweats down over the ankles of his pig socks and then smooths his t-shirt out over his flat stomach before settling back. It's late. Jensen waves a hand at him sleepily.

"It's just an extra switch," he says again.

"Could be," Jared says mysteriously. "Or it could be _something else_."

"Mystery," Jensen grins. "Sexy."

"Sexy?" Jared repeats. "Dude, that's it. Maybe it turns _you_ on and off."

"Blow me."

"Yeah, you'd like that," Jared says. "Now I've flipped your switch."

Jensen laughs and throws a pillow at Jared, who squawks when it hits him in the face. Sadie jumps down from the couch, stretching, because she knows what's coming, and Jensen just braces himself before Jared launching himself out of the chair and onto the couch in a full body tackle. Jensen's too tangled up in his blanket to put up much of a fight, and Jared's fingers are digging into his side and his legs are crushing Jensen's and he's like nine hundred pounds of solid muscle.

"You suck," he gasps at Jared, the wind knocked out of him. Jared just sits up and makes pistols with his fingers and points them at Jensen.

"Don't start none," he quotes. "Won't be none."

Jensen shoves him off the couch and Jared tumbles to the floor with a thump, grinning like an idiot. Jensen sits up, pushing the blanket off of himself. "How many times have you watched that movie?"

"Like, a few," Jared says shiftily, stretching out on his back on the hardwood.

"Uh huh," Jensen says. "I'm gonna tell Jeff you have a giant man crush on him."

"Bitch, please," Jared says, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "He already knows. I call him whenever I watch it, jerk off on the phone with him."

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No!" Jared laughs. "I don't jerk off at all. Ever."

"Uh huh," Jensen says, because that's utterly untrue. He should know.

"I'm a good boy," Jared tells him earnestly. Jensen winces.

"That just sounds really kinky."

"You like it."

Jensen shrugs. "Maybe."

Jared looks up at him, still grinning, dimples etched deeply into his cheeks, cheeks flushed from the wrestling match, chest rising and falling fast as he catches his breath. His eyes are dark and he shifts, spreads his legs a little and yeah, this is gonna happen. It's been a while since they helped each other clean the pipes, as it were. Jensen feels arousal seep slow and heady into his veins and Jared wiggles his eyebrows at him, grabs at his crotch and makes a completely fake pornographic noise so Jensen laughs and lets himself drop off the couch and on top of him. Jared complains loudly about roommate abuse, but he wraps long arms around him and settles Jensen perfectly into the frame of his body at the same time, his legs spread so Jensen fits between them and they're chest to chest.

"What'cha gonna do now, Jen?" Jared asks, all eyebrows again.

Jensen schools his features into the picture of seriousness. "I'm gonna flip the extra switch."

"I think we've beat that dead horse far enough into the ground," Jared says, but most of it deteriorates into a moan when Jensen pushes his mouth against Jared's neck and rolls his hips. Jared makes good noises, low and sexy—not that Jensen would ever tell him that—and Jensen likes to experiment, work more of them out of him. He digs his fingers just a little into Jared's hip, thumbs at the hollow just inside the bone and grinds down in slow circles and listens to Jared gasp.

Afterward, sprawled out side by side on the floor with their right hands messy, Jared, dopey-eyed and lazy, turns to Jensen and says, "Leave the cash on the table."

Jensen groans and rolls his eyes. "God, you're such an ass."

"The ass is extra," Jared tells him.

Jensen snorts a tired laugh and shoves at Jared's giant bicep ineffectually, yawns, and then makes a face at how gross the inside of his pants is now.

"Okay, it's late, we're disgusting, and we have to work tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

Jared laughs a little, breathy and sleepy, and hefts himself up, then helps pull Jensen up, too. They head upstairs, dogs in tow, say a quick goodnight at the top and head to opposite wings of the house where their bedrooms are, the clack of dog toenails on hardwood fading as Sadie and Harley follow Jared.

Jensen wets a washcloth in his bathroom and cleans himself up, brushes his teeth and pulls on a clean pair of boxers before sliding under his covers. His bed is glorious, and warm, and he dreams about Jared trying to swim through bookshelves toward a giant, glowing bouncy ball and being chased by very round cartoon pigs.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Jensen wakes up a little late the next morning, but feeling really well rested considering how late he stayed up. He takes as fast a shower as he can and gets dressed at the speed of lightning, just a pair of ratty old jeans and a t-shirt, since he'll be getting right back out of it as soon as they get to set.

"Jay!" he calls out around his toothbrush, sticking his head out into the hall.

"Yep!" Jared answers from downstairs, because of course he's already up, early-rising bastard that he is, but it's almost swallowed by the sound of both dogs pounding up the stairs, toenails clattering as they race into the bathroom with him. Jensen lets them nose at his legs and do their damnedest to trip him up as he spits and rinses, and then kneels down to scratch at both their ears quickly.

"Pop-Tarts!" he calls back to Jared.

"Strawberry, Brown Sugar Cinnamon, or Cookie Dough?" Jared yells back. And, naturally, as soon as the dogs hear _Jared_ talking, they have to race back down to him. They've got too much energy in the morning.

"Cookie Dough!" Jensen shouts.

"Cookie Dough!" Jared yells, celebratory, and gets the dogs all riled up and barking, and Jensen rolls his eyes and hurries back into his bedroom to grab shoes. When he gets downstairs, they've got less than five minutes before Clif will be here for them, and he blesses Jared's precious soul when he sees a travel mug of coffee and his Pop-Tarts already wrapped in a paper towel sitting on the kitchen counter. Jared, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. Jensen chomps down on one of the Pop-Tarts and wanders curiously into the living room. He can hear the dogs toenails there, and since they know that Jared and Jensen are about to leave they tend to follow them around forlornly most mornings. Sadie and Harley are sitting side by side, staring at Jared, who is once again half-hidden by the bookshelf still pulled out from the wall on one side.

"Did you eat?" Jensen asks. Jared tends to forget to do that. When food is put in front of him he inhales it like a bottomless pit, but he'll go stretches of completely forgetting that he hasn't had anything for fourteen hours sometimes.

"Yes, dad," Jared answers.

"What?" Jensen presses.

"I had a protein shake."

Jared is like, Captain Protein Shake. Jensen chews on his Cookie Dough Pop-Tart blissfully, finishing the first one. "Are you still messing with that light switch?"

"I've tested like, everything," Jared says like he's been dying to bring it up and have someone share in his misery. "It doesn't turn any of the outside lights on, and it doesn't turn any of the lights in the house on. I don't think. Did your bedroom light mysteriously flash on and off?" He pokes his head out from behind the bookshelf and looks hopeful. Jensen shakes his head.

"No."

"Damn it."

Outside, Clif honks, and Jensen winces. It's a good thing that Jared is such an irresistibly nice guy, because between the dogs and the five a.m. calls, his neighbors would probably be about ready to kill him by now.

"C'mon," Jensen says, scooping up his travel mug and grabbing Jared's, too. Jared reluctantly leaves the living room, patting distractedly at Sadie's head when she presses her muzzle into his knee.

"Hey," he says on their way out the door, bundled up against the November cold, "do you think Clif is a trained electrician?"

Jensen shakes his head. "Sorry, dude."

"But Clif is trained in everything. He's like, a ninja assassin, and a boxing champion, and a gourmet chef, and a wizard like Harry Potter."

"Magic and electronics don't mix, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Jared says, as though this is a completely valid reason as to why Clif isn't an electrician. "Damn."

Jensen grins at him and bumps their shoulders together, reaching for the back door handle. "Cheer up, Padalecki. It really is just an extra switch. It doesn't do anything."

"Tch," Jared says. He pushes Jensen out of the way and climbs into the car first, and Jensen follows in after him.

The ride to set is too quick. Jensen dozes and Jared hums tunelessly, already wide awake and ready for the day. It's going to be grueling, because both of them are going to spend most of it being slammed into fake rocks and giant pools of water by an invisible water demon in the middle of the Fall in fucking Vancouver.

"Jen," Jared says, and Jensen pulls himself out of his sleepy reverie. The car's stopped. Jensen yawns hugely at Clif, who laughs a little in the rearview mirror. Jensen stretches and grunts a laugh when Jared prods him in the side, ticklish, and all but falls out of the car. He's having a graceful morning. He sips moodily at his coffee and follows Jared and Clif across the lot.

Jared throws the studio doors open, a huge, beaming smile on his face as the doors bang loudly. Jensen follows him in more sedately, smiling sleepily and nodding good mornings to everyone who says it to him first. He's not a morning person. Everyone knows it. Besides, Jared's got enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

When Misha strolls in a few minutes later, just as Jared and Jensen are getting settled into their make-up chairs, Jared cat-calls and Misha grins smugly and lopes over, stopping to chat with a few people along the way. The set is loud this morning, and busy, and Jensen's really not looking forward to spending the next twelve hours being dunked into a man-made lake over and over again.

"Boys," Misha says in his low Cas voice as soon as he's close enough. He and Jensen bump knuckles and he and Jared share an incredibly complex secret handshake that includes a thumb wrestling match. Jared wins, because he has huge hands and no one could ever hope to beat him at thumb wrestling, but Misha's not real put off by it.

"I thought you weren't here 'til later," Jared says, grinning victoriously. "To save us from the swamp monster."

"They want to reshoot some of the crap I did last week, so I get to go and stand moodily by a fake window and react to Dean the tennis ball for three hours."

"Niiiice," Jared says.

"Least I'll be dry," Misha says mildly. Jared opens his mouth to say something, but Vanessa, make-up artist extraordinaire and slave driver, shoots him a dangerous look as she comes at him with a foundation sponge and he closes his mouth with a snap. Helen, Jensen's artist, smirks appreciatively and starts to dab at him, too. Misha drops into the chair next to him. Jensen toasts him with his coffee.

"How's it goin', man?" he asks.

"Good," Misha says. "Fuckin' cold. You?"

"'m good," Jensen tells him, and the grin at each other and then settle in to keep perfectly still so Jensen and Jared can get all their fake bruises and fake cuts. Misha gets to leave like an hour before they do, and he and Jared head off to the other side of the studio and the giant tank full of nasty- looking, grey-colored water.

It ends up being one of the more entertaining days Jensen's ever had on set. The water is icy fucking cold, even inside, but both he and Jared get to zip line thirty feet across the studio and fall another ten into the water like they were thrown in by some otherworldly power, and it's like being twelve years old again. Jared is all smiles and laughter, and Jensen's not much better. They end up making the morning last three hours longer than necessary because of it, and Phil gripes and the lighting guys gripe and most of the entire crew gripes, but it's so much fucking fun, especially splashing around in the near-darkness since it's supposed to be night. 

At one point in the scene, Sam is supposed to get pulled under by the water demon, and Dean's supposed to freak the hell out when he doesn't reappear and then get pulled under himself. To make it look real, two of the stunt guys dive down with oxygen tanks and wetsuits to grab each of them by the ankle and pull, and he and Jared shoot their dialogue. The script didn't tell them when it would happen, so they'd assumed it'd be right after whatever line they were on, but Sam was halfway through the word 'fire' ("How the hell are we supposed to light it on fire, Dean, it's under water!" Sam says) when Jared's face suddenly goes from annoyed-Sam to complete startled shock and fear as he's pulled under. It looks really good. Jared _hates_ people sneaking up on him like that, but damn, did it work for the shot. Jensen looks around like Dean would, annoyance with his brother fading into fear for Sam instead when Sam doesn't resurface, and that heightening into panic. "This isn't funny Sam! Sam! C'mon, dude get back—"

And he's pretty sure he makes exactly the same face Jared made as he's pulled under too. He ends up snorting, like, three gallons of water up his nose, but it's totally worth it. He and Jared both resurface grinning. Jensen's face kind of hurts from how much he's been smiling. The stunt guys are laughing, pleased with themselves, and Jared shoves his wet hair out of his face and treads toward Jensen, tackling him back underwater.

Eventually, Phil calls for lunch, but he wants Jared to stay back and redo a couple of things ("less flailing when you fall, more manly angst") and Jensen cuts out, limbs exhausted from swimming and treading water in jeans and shirts and boots all morning. He's got an interview to do for a local show, too, so he eats quickly in his trailer, not bothering to change into dry clothes since he'll be back in the tank for most of the rest of the day, and hurries off to the small section of the studio that they allow the press in.

His interviewer is a girl his age named Shauna, and she's gorgeous, tan with long dark hair, killer legs, a great smile. Talking to her is really easy, and she asks a lot of really good questions like how difficult it is to be in Dean's head and rolls her eyes when he tells her his favorite episode to film was Mystery Spot, and she's really pretty cool. Jensen hasn't been on a date in like, six months, but he wants to see her again, so he asks her out. She lives a little out of the way, but they make plans for Jensen to pick her up at eight tonight for dinner, and Jensen goes back to work grinning.

The rest of the day is just as awesome as the morning was, though by the end of it his body aches so bad from the abuse he put it through that he's glad it's over, and Jared looks like he's about to fall over and go to sleep right there in the water.

"Dude," he says, voice thick and smile still huge. "This was the most awesome day ever."

Jensen laughs exhaustedly and nods, hefting himself up out of the tank and then helping Jared out. He feels like he weight a few hundred pounds under the weight of weight clothes and shoes.

"It really kind of was," he says, as Vanessa and Helen wrap them in towels and lead them over to get what's left of the make-up off. Jensen's too tired to talk much, but Jared's on a roll about how awesome he thought the scene was gonna look, even with how much they messed around, and how badass Dean was, and how come Dean always got to be the badass, anyway, hadn't anyone looked at Sam's shoulders lately? It was soothing.

After they'd peeled out of their wet clothes and dried off, redressed in their own threads and met back up at the car, it was almost six.

"I have a date tonight," Jensen says abruptly as they head out of the lot. He's not entirely sure where it came from, just that he's pretty sure that it's something Jared needs to know. Jared just grins.

"Oh yeah? One of the sea monsters?"

"Fuck your sea monsters—"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" says Jared, grabbing himself.

"With the girl that interviewed me."

Jared smiles and claps Jensen on the shoulder. "That's awesome, dude. She's hot."

"Yeah," Jensen says.

The look at each other dopily. And really, he thinks that having a date in a couple of hours is something that might keep him from crowding Jared up against the wall in the hallway and giving him a hand job. But it doesn't. If nothing else, it should stop him from letting Jared return the favor. But it doesn't do that either.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

He takes Shauna to dinner somewhere he's never been before, a ritzy place in town that he remembers Jared taking Sandy to years ago and mentioning that it was a great date place because it was quiet enough to talk. It's elegant and small, and if people recognize him they don't say anything. Shauna's a knockout in a black dress and heels, her hair falling around her face in dark waves. The small talk is easy, the conversation never awkward, and by the time their meals arrive he's honestly curious about her.

"I'm in grad school," she tells him with a smile. "I didn't go to college until I was twenty-five, and I just turned thirty-two a few months ago. I guess I wanted to wait until I knew what I wanted to do before I paid for college."

"Not a bad idea," Jensen says. "What are you getting your grad degree in?"

"Journalism," she says, which is unsurprising, considering what she does for a living. "I'd really like to go more into politics, but entertainment has been fun the last couple of years. I can't complain." She smiles at him, perfect white teeth and full lips, and Jensen smiles back.

"I always considered journalism when I was younger," he admits. "Worked on my high school paper and stuff. It was like, a back-up plan, though I wasn't very good at it."

"I'm sure you're being hard on yourself," she says. "The last time I interviewed your co-star he kept going on about how you're good at everything you try." 

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. "Jared?"

"Yeah," she says, and then bites her lip and tilts her head, looking nervous. "Is it okay if I call him that? I always use first and last names, like I'm not allowed to just say 'Hey, Jared, nice to meet you.' or something. Even though he told me to just call him by his name. I'm a complete idiot sometimes."

Jensen laughs. "You can definitely just call him Jared. It'd make him uncomfortable if you didn't. You've been calling me by my name all night."

"You asked me out," Shauna says. "It's different."

Jensen grins, and she pushes her hair back out of her face in a way that reminds him of Jared and closes her lips around a cherry tomato from her salad.

"Anyway," she says after she swallows. "He was really sweet about you."

"He's a suck up," Jensen says immediately, and she laughs. "When was this interview?"

"Oh God, when you were filming the very beginning of season five, I think? We were talking about how at odds Sam and Dean were and I asked how the new dynamic between them felt while acting it out, and he said that he kept having trouble shaking off the guilt even just as himself because you were so good at playing wounded and disappointed that it really got him lost in Sam's head." She looks at him curiously, takes a sip of her drink. He fingernails are painted dark red. "And then it kind of spiraled into how you're so good at everything you try to do. It was really sweet."

Jensen can feel his face burning a little. He and Jared generally try not to watch or read any of their interviews. It's unsettling, and Jensen usually tries to distance himself as much from the show as he can in order to stay sane. Jared's way more open about it than he is.

"He's pretty awesome himself," he says, rolling his eyes at himself a little, though the words are honest.

"Oh yeah, I know," Shauna grins again. "I'm pretty sure he does, too."

Weirdly enough, Jared ends up the subject of their conversation a lot over the course of dinner. Almost every story Jensen has from the last seven and a half years have to do with him. But he learns a lot about Shauna, too. Her three younger sisters and her parents all live in Saskatchewan. She'd like to work for CNN, wants to travel the world and be in the thick of whatever she's reporting, and has life-long dreams of getting Americans to learn more about Canada. She's ambitious and fun and really sweet and really, really hot. She's easy to talk to, too, and Jensen's still smiling when they get back to her house. He kisses her goodnight, her lips so soft, and she smiles at him and says she had a great time. It's a good night.

When he gets home it's just before midnight. He hangs his coat up and frowns at Harley when he wanders over, but toes off his shoes and crouches down to pet him.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" he asks. The dog licks his cheek helpfully and Jensen sighs, shakes his head, and stands up again. He's exhausted after the shoot today, and he just had a great night, and he's really, really looking forward to sinking into his bed and sleeping until noon tomorrow. He pops his neck and back, stretching, and then pads into the living room to get to the hall and the stairs, Harley trailing him.

He finds Jared sacked out on the long couch, stretched out on his side, still dressed, the light from the TV casting blue shadow over him. Sadie is up next to him, on top of his feet, and judging by the dent in the cushion right in front of Jared's torso he's pretty sure he knows where Harley's been. The arm Jared's lying on is curled up by his chest, the other one hanging off the edge of the seat. His lips are parted just slightly and his hair is falling over his face. He's totally knocked out. Jensen considers waking him up, thinks he'd probably be more comfortable up in his bed, but he can't bring himself to do it. He just stands there and looks at him for a few minutes, and then tosses the afghan thrown over the back of the couch over him. Jared doesn't even move Jensen feels his lips curl into a fond smile and rubs a hand over his face, yawning, and starts toward the stairs. He barely makes it a step before Harley barks at him, though, and Jared startles awake, jerking roughly and eyes opening wide. Sadie grumbles at the movement and jumps down from the couch, and Jared blinks up at Jensen, breathing hard. Harley must've scared the crap out of him. Jensen tries not to laugh at him

"Hey," he says.

Jared blinks a couple more times, and then relaxes absolutely, lips pulling into a dimpled smile. "Hey," he says, swinging his legs off the couch to sit up. Jensen drops down next to him, slumping into the cushions. Jared stretches and yawns, but melts back into the cushions, too.

"How was your date?" he asks sleepily.

"Good," Jensen says, smiling a little and shrugging. Jared looks at him pointedly.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, and nudges at Jensen's shoulder with his own. "You gonna see her again? You like her?"

"Yeah," Jensen says. "I mean, I like what I've seen so far. I invited her to come with us to see Chris and Steve in a few weeks."

Jared raises an eyebrow. "You like her, and you're gonna introduce her to Chris?"

Jensen snorts. "It's best she finds out all my flaws right up front, right?"

Jared laughs and punches Jensen lightly in the shoulder. "That's awesome, man. That it went well, I mean. Not your flaws. Your flaws suck ass and like it."

"Thanks," Jensen says dryly.

"Seriously. Captain OCD, best friends with Kane, mood swings like you're PMSing, the worst morning person in the history of the world..."

Jensen holds up a hand. "I got it."

Jared beams at him until it's swallowed by a yawn. "Anyway. I'm glad it was good."

"Thanks," Jensen says, grinning tiredly. "Me too."

It's comfortably quiet for a minute, and then Jared looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "So when're you gonna propose?"

"Shut up."

"Will I be your best man?"

"Shut up."

"You'll live happily ever after. Hundreds of fat babies."

"Hundreds?" Jensen asks.

"Hundreds," Jared says.

Jensen shoves at him, and he kind of expects Jared to shove back and maybe tackle him until they both end up in an impromptu wrestling match, but Jared must be too tired, 'cause instead he just laughs and yawns again before standing.

"C'mon," he says, to Jensen or the dogs or both, "bed time."

Jensen groans, but hauls himself reluctantly off the couch and follows Jared and his beasties upstairs. Sleep sounds good.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

The next two weeks pass by in a kind of surreal blur. They're pounding out physically exhausting scene after physically exhausting scene, trying to get a bunch of the outdoor stuff done before winter comes on hard. He sees Shauna twice, and brings her home with him after the third date. The sex is good. Really good. She's hot and kind of wild and fun in bed, so tight around him, and it's been so long since Jensen's had actual sex that it makes it all the better. She's sweet and good company and she makes him laugh, and even though he's not ready to commit to anything yet, he's enjoyed spending time with her.

His evenings not spent with Shauna have been same-old: work, TV, movies, watching Jared try to figure out what the stupid light switch that was hidden behind the bookshelf does, because Jared's obsessed. It's bothering him. He's not like, losing sleep over it or anything—Jensen hopes not, anyway—but if he's in the house for any stretch of time he's usually experimenting with the lights, the fans, the TVs and computers and anything else he can think of. Jensen refuses to have any part in it, and Jared refuses to believe that it's just an extra, unhooked light switch, and Jensen's stopped trying to tell him that that's what it is (because that's exactly what it is). With winter hitting, Jared's lost the ability to go outside and work on the yard, so Jensen figures this is a good project for him

"Jared," Misha says one night he stops over. The three of them usually get together at a bar Thursday nights, but Jensen had talked him into just coming over, instead, because he spent a full day getting thrown into walls and he'd rather sit somewhere soft. "What do you want it to do, man? We've all checked every electronic device in the house like, four times tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," Jared mopes, slouching out from behind the bookshelf to drop like a rock onto Misha's lap on the loveseat. Misha grunts, but laughs and wraps both his arms around Jared's waist and lets Jared wrap both of his around his neck. "Jeff said it was just an extra too," he tells Misha.

"He's right," Jensen says from his spot in the recliner.

"Maybe," Jared says. It's the most he'll concede to.

"Your ass is really kind of bony," Misha tells him.

"My ass is perfect," Jared says, mock offended.

"I'm sorry, baby," Misha coos, hugging him tighter. They look like morons. Jared is like, three times the size of Misha. "I didn't mean it."

Jared pretends to consider it, and then he grins and kisses Misha's forehead. "It's okay, I forgive you."

Misha says something that makes Jared laugh and fall off of his lap, but Jensen's kind of drunk and in that buzzed state of mind where he can't focus on more than one thing at a time. Back when the whole thing with Sandy happened, and Jared had been acting the same as ever but was locked up so tight Jensen had been worried, Jeff had been in town, doing the voice in some animated movie that was being recorded in Vancouver, and he'd come to the set to catch up with the crew. They'd been watching Jared film and Jensen had wondered aloud if maybe there was someone else in Sandy's life. Jared was acting so weird (by not acting weird at all) that he'd wondered if Sandy had done something Jared couldn't forgive her for.

Jeff had thought about it for a minute, and then shook his head and said, "I dunno. I think one of Jared's biggest flaws is probably that he'll forgive anything."

Jensen's never forgotten that conversation, like an insight into his best friend that he can't quite grasp.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Three days later, he wakes up very suddenly, and he's not entirely sure why, thinks it might be the angle of the sunlight coming through his window. When he opens his eyes he jumps, rolls onto his back with a quiet cry of surprise, because Chris is sitting _right there_ on the side of his bed.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jensen swears weakly, putting a hand to his racing heart.

"Mornin'," Chris says, lips curled into a smug smile.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jensen asks him, but he's laughing a little, and yawning as he pushes his fingers back through his sleep-mussed hair. He looks at the clock, and then back at Chris. "Oh, shit, I was supposed to pick you guys up from the airport."

"Yup," Chris says, but shrugs calmly and tilts his head, long hair fall over his shoulder. "Asshole. Good thing your punk ass roommate remembered, or we'd still be standing at the gate."

Jensen owes Jared money, now. Or cookies. He makes awesome cookies, and Jared's always asking for them. "That's what I keep him around for," he tells Chris, sitting up.

"He's one hell of a wife," Chris says. "So anyway, funny story."

Jensen looks at him, intrigued but nervous. "Oh yeah?"

"So Jay picks us up, and he's totally chill on the ride over, asking us about our show. We just talked and shit, right?"

"Okay..."

"Then we get here, and he lets us in, and apparently he's spent most of the morning tearing holes in the floor and wall of the living room."

"What?!" Jensen says. He doesn't know how to respond to this. "Why the hell is he—"

"So I'm just standing there, floored. I mean, what the hell. He's obviously not renovating, and he's acting totally normal. And Steve puts his bag down and kind of looks at him, asks him what's going on."

"Oh Christ," Jensen groans, metaphorical light bulb clicking on in his head. "That stupid light switch."

Chris nods, smiling wide, laughing, and Jensen groans again and scrubs a hand over his face. Jared hasn't even brought up that damn thing in over a week. Jensen thought he'd finally given up on it. 

"It's just an extra switch, right?" Chris asks. "I mean, Steve and I sat down there with him for a while, watched him mess around with the wiring, but after the third time he got shocked, we figured someone oughtta stop 'im."

Jensen pulls at his mouth. "Shocked?"

Chris laughs again. "Nothing serious, I don't think. Sparks flew on the last one, but—"

On cue, there's a yelp from downstairs that's unmistakably Jared, and Jensen can just make out the smooth, wordless rumble of Steve's voice over the dogs barking.

"I guess that makes four," Chris says. Jensen sighs.

"He ripped holes in the wall?"

"And took up part of the floor," Chris says, apparently delighted. "I've always known your boy was kind of fucking nuts, y'know, but it's so goddamn _endearing_. Every time I see him he's doin' somethin' insane, and it still just makes me want to buy him a beer or an ice cream cone or something."

"He goes all out for company," Jensen grouses. "And he's paying to get that shit fixed, man. I can't believe he's playing with live wires. What the hell."

There's a distinctive thump, and then laughter, and then Jared cries, "All right, all right, I'll stop!" loudly and Steve shouts, "Fuckin' shit yeah you'll stop!" Jensen can't help the smile that breaks out across his face, and Chris is laughing again as he rises from the bed.

"Anyway," he says. "Kid said he's gotta work this afternoon."

"Yeah, he and Misha are shooting a few scenes."

"So you're gonna take us out on the town, right? We don't need to get to the club until five."

Jensen yawns again, waves a dismissive hand at him. "Yeah, yeah. I'll haul your asses around. We'll get lunch and shit. Get the fuck out."

"Fuck off," Chris says easily, and lopes out the door. A few seconds later, Jensen hears him say, "What the fuck are you two— _hey!_ " and then a few more heavy crashes and an outraged cry from Chris and laughter from Jared and Steve. Jensen can just imagine Jared, head thrown back, laughter unrestrained. He smiles and shakes his head, and finally shoves the covers back and gets out of bed.

When he makes it downstairs, the three of them are sitting around the kitchen island. Chris has got his elbows on the table and Steve gets up to hug Jensen in greeting and Jared's slumped back in one of the high bar stools across from them with a notebook in hand, Steve's messy scrawl apparent.

"This is really good," he tells Steve and Chris, handing Chris the notebook back and offering Jensen a welcoming smile when Jensen sinks into the seat next to him. "Are you guys gonna play it tonight?"

"Probably," Chris shrugs. "It'd be kind of experimental since it's not entirely done, but probably."

"Good," Jared says, eyes narrowing slyly. "Jensen's girl will like it."

Jensen has to put up with catcalls and digs at his expense about Shauna for almost an hour before Jared has to get to the set. After he's gone, Jensen leads Steve and Chris back into the living room for a game of Halo, takes in the narrow but long hole now stretched under the extra light switch behind the bookshelf—which is still only pulled out from the wall at one side—and in the floor just underneath it. He takes a deep breath and exhales it. Jared will fix this, or pay to have it fixed, and everything will be fine. Steve and Chris sink down into the recliner and the love seat respectively, and Jensen sprawls out on the couch and grabs the third controller from the coffee table. Sadie jumps up onto the couch next to him and Harley sits next to Chris's chair, eyes closed and tilting as Chris scratches at one of his ears.

"I need pizza," Chris says, and pulls out his phone to make it happen.

"No bell peppers," Jensen tells him. "Jared hates those on pizza."

"Hey, Jen," Steve says, and Jensen looks over at him. "You know you're an idiot, right?"

Jensen frowns. "What?"

Steve shakes his head, smiling a little fondly, like Jensen's adorable. "Nothin'."

Jensen frowns, but Chris gets his pizza ordered and the game started before he can think of what to say.

There's not a whole lot to do in town that they haven't done before, but it's a good time anyway. It's been too long since Jensen's seen them, and Chris has always had a weirdly calming effect on him. They catch a really, really God awful action flick at the movie theater in the mall and then walk around and look at a lot of shit they don't need in the shops. Jared meets up with them a little later and they catch dinner at a local burger spot that they frequent so often they're on a first name basis with the owners.

Jensen's surprisingly lacking an appetite, though, and it takes him a while to figure out that it's the thought of Jared and Shauna meeting, the girl he's been sleeping with and the guy he's been exchanging hand jobs with. Somehow, it just feels like a bad idea.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

At the club Steve and Chris are playing at that night, Jensen introduces Jared, Misha, Chris and Steve to Shauna. She's a little shy at first, but Jared gives her a huge dimpled smile and a hug like they've known each other their whole lives, and Chris says 'hey' in that stupid twang of his, and Steve shakes her hand politely, and she's fine. Jared is attentive but distant, to give them enough space, and he asks Shauna all about her life and plans for the future and hobbies and she seems a little overwhelmed, but pleased, and she keeps pace with him just fine. Jensen remembers when he first met Jared, how intense it was to have all of that focus on him, but that's just Jared. He listens and he cares and he's honest to God interested, friends with everyone he's ever met and keeps in touch with all of them too.

"So do you think you wanna stay here in Vancouver?" Jared asks her curiously. He's nursing a beer, but he's driving tonight, so he hasn't had anything else. Chris and Steve are still setting up, and it's crowded and loud around the table they've taken in one corner.

"I'm not sure," Shauna answers, stirring her margarita with a straw idly and smiling at Jared. "I've really enjoyed going to school here, but I really want to travel. Live everywhere for a while, y'know?"

Jared grins brilliantly. "That sounds great," he says emphatically. "You should see everything you can, the whole world. Is there anywhere in particular you really want to go?"

"Egypt," Shauna answers immediately. "And Prague. Russia, Morocco, Malaysia, Budapest, New Delhi, the Ukraine..."

Jared laughs and Jensen smiles, his arm around her shoulders. He's relaxed and comfortable and it's nice. A few minutes later, Chris and Steve saunter out onto the stage and the noise is unbelievable. Chris is a natural at performing, clearly loves it, and it shows in ever word as he greets the crowd. It's a good show, a lot of fun. He and Shauna even get up and dance some, laughing and talking. When they get back to the table, Jared's chair is empty. They sink into their seats and Shauna nudges him in the shoulder.

"Look," she tells him, close to his ear as Chris sings and the crowd sings with him. She points toward the bar and he follows her line of sight to Jared, sitting on one of the stools and talking animatedly with a tall guy and a pretty redheaded woman. He's smiling his dimpled smile and looking up at the guy, who's standing, leaning in to hear whatever he has to say.

"What?" Jensen asks Shauna.

"They're totally hitting on him," she tells him, biting her lower lip on a smile. "Like, I saw them earlier, the guy came up first, and they were flirting like crazy, and then the girl was sitting alone and she started talking to them too. They both want him."

Jensen shrugs, though something in his chest clenches uncomfortably and he's not sure why. "Jared flirts with everything that moves."

"Yeah," Shauna agrees. "But look at him. He has no idea."

"About what?"

"That they're hitting on him."

Jensen frowns and considers his friend thoughtfully. The guy has his hand on Jared's shoulder, is looking at Jared like he'd like to eat him for lunch, and Jared's just sitting there with his drink and chatting, talking with his hands the way he always does, and he looks completely casual. The girl leans in to say something to him and Jared dips his head so he can hear her, his hair falling over his face, and whatever she says makes him throw his head back and laugh.

"You don't think so?" he asks Shauna curiously.

"Nah," she answers, smiling at him. "I'm pretty good at reading people. You celebrity types make it necessary, so we can imply and describe things you didn't say. I try not to do it, but it's entertainment reporting, right?"

"Sure," he says, a little startled by her honesty, but appreciative. He thinks. He looks at Jared again. "So you think he's just oblivious?"

"Maybe," she says, shrugging. "Or maybe a little insecure."

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. Insecure definitely isn't something he'd ever think about Jared, who's loud and boisterous and funny and not shy in any way, shape or form. He wants to ask more questions, curious where Shauna's going with this and why she thinks that might be what Jared's deal is, but Jared claps his new friend on the shoulder and gives the girl a small hug and leaves the bar, weaves back through the crowd and over to them, and he and Shauna sink into conversation again as Jensen studies his best friend.

When they get home, hours later, Chris and Steve are very drunk and Jensen's pretty buzzed himself. He helps Jared haul the other two to the guest bedrooms they're staying in, and then Jared follows him to make sure he gets into his own. He falls headfirst onto his bed and rolls languidly onto his back, looking up at Jared who's kneeling on the foot of the bed and trying to keep Jensen's legs still long enough to take his shoes off. Jensen wants to help, so he tries to stop moving, but the temptation to twitch is too great and Jared rolls his eyes at him.

"Hey," Jensen says, because he hasn't stopped thinking about it since Shauna mentioned it and he's officially drunk enough to forget why he wasn't going to bring it up in the first place. "D'you know they were hittin' on you?"

"Huh?" Jared says distractedly, letting out a triumphant sound when he manages to free first one shoe, and then the other from Jensen's feet. Jensen shuffles further up the bed, snuffling softly into his pillow. It smells like that lavender detergent Jared buys and he wraps his arms around it.

"That guy at the bar," he explains sleepily. "And the girl. They wanted you."

Jared blinks at him, and then smiles. "Everybody wants me."

"They kept touching you," Jensen tells him stubbornly. "Both of them. They wanted you."

"I promise they didn't," Jared says, and pats Jensen on the thigh genially. Jensen wants him to spread out over him, to rub against him, or maybe strip them both down and fuck him. He hasn't touched Jared in weeks like that. Misses the feel of him. But he doesn't know how to ask for it past the fog of alcohol in his head, and Jared just rubs his leg one more time and then gets up, tells Jensen to get some sleep, and leaves the room.

Jensen closes his eyes, head swimming, thoughts all on Jared and what Shauna said about him. He can't make sense of it, wonders if there was a reason Jared didn't bring one of them home when he so obviously could have, or if Jared really didn't think they were trying to get in his pants, which they totally were. He falls asleep wondering.


	5. Chapter 5

Three weeks later, Shauna meets him at a coffee shop halfway between their houses to break up with him. Jensen's so completely floored by it that he just kind of stares at her. She looks sad and guilty and sympathetic and pretty. She's wearing a green v-neck sweater, and a silver necklace that has a heart. Two nights ago he was in her bed and she was bare and gorgeous underneath him, breathing hard, crying out his name.

"Jensen?" she asks delicately, and he realizes he hasn't said a word. He shakes himself roughly.

"Sorry," he says. "Just. Wasn't expecting that, I guess. Did I do something?"

"No," she says immediately. "God, no, of course not. You're great. I just. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why?" he asks. He's hurt, and curious, and kind of sad. It's not like they were planning their futures together or anything, but he likes her and it's a little shocking. He hasn't been dumped in years.

"Because I could really fall for you," she tells him seriously, always so honest, "and I don't think you're as into me as you think you are."

Hey, now. "That's. What?"

"I could be wrong, I know that, but I just get this feeling...Like, I know you like me, but I'm just. I don't know," she finishes lamely, and now Jensen's kind of pissed. She's sitting here telling him how he feels, and it's not fair and he doesn't appreciate it, so he just nods like he understands.

"Okay," he says, voice a little colder than he means it to be. Her eyebrows draw together and she covers his hand on the table with her smaller one and squeezes gently.

"I'm really sorry," she tells him. "I just think—"

"I got it," he cuts her off. She bites her lip but nods, and doesn't say anything else. They pay for their coffee separately and leave together, and when they get to their cars he's already let the anger go and is just kind of down. They share a hug that's less awkward than he thought it would be, and he kisses her cheek. He's going to miss her. His chest is tight. This isn't killing him but it's a little painful. He opens her car door for her and she smiles sadly at him, eyes wet. He waits until she's started her car and is pulling out of her parking spot before he gets into his own.

The drive back to the house is kind of a blur. It's early evening and snowing, the wind picking up and the sun going down. Jensen locks his car and heads up the driveway to the front porch almost numbly. When he opens the door and the dogs don't immediately rush forward to greet them, he walks straight through to the kitchen and the back door. Jared's sitting on the top step of the deck, and Jensen can make out Sadie and Harley down the stairs in the yard. Jared turns at once to look at him. He's just in a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and it's way too fucking cold to be out in that, but he's not even shivering.

"Hey Jen," he says warmly, smiling, but his expression falters when he sees the look on Jensen's face. Jensen walks over and sits down next to him. There's not a ton of room. Their arms touch. Jared's still frowning at him, concerned. "You okay? Where's Shauna?"

"Home, probably," he says. "She kind of, like, dumped me."

"Oh, man," Jared says, immediately all comfort. He slings one of his long arms across Jensen's shoulders. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

"I dunno," Jensen says, and lets himself lean into Jared's side just a little. It's been a long time since they've been this close to each other outside of Sam and Dean, which seems so weird now because Jared's so fucking tactile. He's always touching, always close, a hand on the shoulder or the back or climbing every damn person he sees. He's been keeping his hands to himself around Jensen though, and it feels good here. "She said she thought I wasn't that into her or something."

"What?" Jared asks incredulously. "What does that mean?"

"I have no idea."

"Well screw her," Jared says, and Jensen snorts a soft laugh. "She's a cold-hearted bitch."

"No she's not," Jensen says.

"Nah," Jared agrees with a grin. "She's not. It still sucks."

His arm around Jensen's shoulders squeezes gently, like a hug, and Jensen shivers with cold and presses in closer to Jared. He's only got a jacket on, himself, and Jared's like a furnace, even now. Jared looks at him again, sympathetic.

"You gonna be okay? You were really into her. Need me to take you to a bar, get you drunk and laid?"

Jensen shakes his head gratefully. "Nah, man, but thanks. I wasn't that into her. I mean, I was, but it's not like it was with Danneel or anything. It just sucks. I think I'm more embarrassed than anything else."

"Why?"

"I dunno," Jensen shrugs, feels Jared's arm move with it. "I haven't been dumped in a coffee shop like that since like, sixth grade. It's embarrassing."

Jared looks out over the yard again, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. Jensen reaches up, cups Jared's cheek, feels smooth, warm skin. He presses the pad of his thumb to the bottom of Jared's lip and Jared breathes softly, ducks his head like he's shy, looks back up at Jensen with that same quirky smile. They've never kissed before, haven't done anything more intimate than jerk each other off, but Jensen kind of wants to kiss Jared now.

"Seriously? Rebound sex? Already? It hasn't even been an hour," Jared says, but he's teasing and his eyes are warm and dark and he shuffles closer to Jensen, slides his hand down Jensen's back.

"Don't judge me," Jensen says, a line Jared uses at least four times a day, and Jared laughs. Jensen likes the sound, likes the feel of it against his hand. He presses the pad of his index finger into one of Jared's dimples, touches his smile. Jared reaches up with his free hand to grip Jensen's wrist gently, just holding. His lips are thin and soft, his hand broad and so warm on Jensen's back. Jensen's heart rate is speeding up steadily.

"Jensen," Jared says and Jensen feels Jared's lips form his name under his thumb, and it's so fucking hot it buzzes electric through his whole body.

"You're not a rebound," he says, voice low and quiet and urgent. Jared's grin picks up again.

"I know."

"I'm gonna..."

"Yeah."

Their noses touch first, and Jared's taller so Jensen has to tilt his chin up. Jared's breath is warm and sweet, like he was eating candy or something earlier, and his lips part a little when Jensen slides his hand back across his face, swipes his thumb carefully across the sensitive skin under Jared's eye and threads his fingers through his dark hair. Jared's hand flexes on his back and his other lifts, catches Jensen's chin in a careful grip. The pointy tip of his nose nudges along Jensen's as he tilts his head, and Jensen curls his fingers into the front of Jared's t-shirt and slants their mouths together.

Jensen's good at this, knows he is, is good with his mouth and his tongue and all his alpha-male tendencies, but it's been a long time since he's kissed another guy and it sure as hell wasn't anyone that meant to him what Jared does. Jared's sweet and hot, leans into it and opens his mouth, swipes his tongue along the seam of Jensen's lips and Jensen parts them, coaxes Jared's tongue in. Turns out Jared's pretty fucking good at this too. He's all control and heat and he kisses with his whole _body_ , his hands just as into it as his mouth. He laps at the roof of Jensen's mouth, the bottoms of his teeth, pulls his tongue back and Jensen's follows. He can hear his heart pounding in his chest, all the blood in his body rushing south. He's overly aware of his fingertips pushing into Jared's stomach through the thin shirt and their legs all pressed together.

Jared tastes good, feels good, he's got Jensen corralled in the frame of his body, a hand on Jensen's thigh now, sliding up to hook two fingers into one of his belt loops. The angle is awkward, their backs twisted to face each other, and it's wet and kind of messy and in the quiet the soft sound of skin on skin and the slick smack of their lips is easy to hear, sinks down into Jensen's bones. It's _hot_. Unbelievably hot, and weird as hell. Jensen tugs at Jared's hair lightly, gasps a little sharply into Jared's mouth when Jared moans like he likes it, tips his head back submissively but nips sharply at the swell of Jensen's bottom lip and licks the sting away.

It only ends because it has to, the need to breathe too overwhelming, and Jensen breathing hard and so is Jared, and it feels good when Jared kisses him again, and again, these light little touches of his lips to Jensen's. Jared's hand slides up his back and onto the nape of his neck and Jensen pulls back to feel the pressure of his palm there, meets Jared's hooded dark eyes and swipes his tongue over his lips, tastes Jared there.

"Hey," he murmurs stupidly, kissing Jared again when Jared grins.

"Inside?" Jared asks, voice raw and deep, even more than it gets when Jared's coming into Jensen's hand. Jensen nods slowly, looses his hand from Jared's shirt and cups his cheek again, rubs a slow circle with his fingertips to Jared's temple and smears the slick of Jared's lips with his thumb.

"Yeah. I'm. Yeah."

Jensen reluctantly takes his hands back. Jared whistles for the dogs, and they come running. Jensen barely gets the door open before they're barreling inside and toward their food and water bowls. Jared shuts it behind him, and Jensen strips out of his jacket and folds it neatly over the back of one of the bar stools at the island. It's quiet and still, almost awkward, and then they look at each other and Jared grins his huge, best friend grin and everything in Jensen just kind of unclenches.

He's not sure which one of them moves first, but suddenly they're pressed all against each other and they're kissing. It's hot, and new, and arousal zings through Jensen hard, blood rushing south as he slides his palms up Jared's back. He tongues at the seam of Jared's mouth and slips inside, and Jared makes a soft, pleased sound in his throat and coaxes Jensen's tongue in further, soft suction, so much heat. Jensen finds himself backed into the wall by the entryway, Jared pressed in a long line against him, their hips aligned. Jared's hands on his face, and Jensen's are on Jared's waist, his back, his stomach, sliding up under Jared's t-shirt to feel rock hard abs and soft, soft skin.

"God," Jared breathes when the kiss breaks, and Jensen's panting for breath, pulling Jared in closer, harder, gripping Jared's chin and pulling him back in to fuse their mouths together again. He's not used to kissing like this, where he's the one tilting his head up, where the body against his is bigger. He's been with a couple guys before, not in at least ten years, back when he was young and curious and half the people he was around were either gay or bi, but he's got no qualms about what his body's telling him it wants, and he pulls Jared's tongue into his mouth and grinds into him, already hard in his jeans, the hurt and irritation and sadness from just minutes ago getting buried under the taste and feel and sound of Jared.

"Upstairs," he murmurs, voice thick with want, "C'mon. Want you to fuck me."

Jared makes a soft, rough sound and noses at Jensen's jaw, dips his head to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against Jensen's neck. "Yeah," he says. "Fuck, yeah, Jensen, Christ."

Jensen has no idea how they make it up the stairs, but by the time they get to Jared's room Jensen's shirt is somewhere downstairs, and Jared's is on the banister. Both their jeans are undone and they're pressed so tight together, Jared's hands under Jensen's jeans, on his ass, kneading and one of Jensen's wrapped across the nape of Jared's neck and the other on his chest, thumbing over a pebbled nipple. They're kissing loud and wet, touching rushed like they've got a time limit. Jensen's so fucking desperate for it he can barely breathe, totally unwilling to stop kissing Jared long enough to get anything accomplished.

But then Jared shoves Jensen's jeans and boxer-briefs down past his hips and Jensen steps out of them and Jared slides to his knees, his mouth a slow drag over Jensen's chest, sternum, stomach, tongue dipping into his navel for just a second, and then he's right there, breath so hot on Jensen's dick, and Jensen's so fucking hard.

"Jared," he says, because this isn't something he expects, doesn't want Jared to feel like he has to do this just because Jensen got dumped by his sort of girlfriend, but Jared just looks up at him through long, long eyelashes and smirks, grips Jensen's dick around the base and closes his mouth over the crown with an expertise like he's done this a million times before and something like jealousy flares bright and harsh through Jensen's buzz before the tight, encompassing pressure of Jared's mouth blots it out.

Jensen makes some sort of noise, something way higher pitched than it should be that fades into a low, low groan as Jared's lips and tongue work him over. His legs feel weak and he's scrabbling for purchase as he leans against the front of the entertainment center against the wall and tangles his finger in Jared's hair, tugging. Jared moans like it feels good, like he likes it, and Jensen tugs again, gasps at the vibration, swears low and thick and rocks his hips a little, unable to help himself.

Jared has clearly done this before, and he's good at it, and Jensen ignores the angry possessiveness that coils in his gut at the thought of Jared doing this for anyone else. He's raw from the break up, and he should just be grateful for the experience Jared has. He's better at it than Shauna was, he thinks wildly, and she was really, really good at it. Or maybe it's just that it's Jared, and this is so new and weird and awesome. Jared sucks him hard and sweet, cups his sac and rolls his balls in his big hand, takes Jensen deep into his throat and swallows around him and Jensen can feel the flutter of muscle around his cock and it's perfect.

He tugs on Jared's hair to get him to stop, though it's one of the more difficult things he's ever done, and pulls him up, making a soft sound at the loss of all that pleasure but not wanting it to be over yet. He kisses Jared as soon as he gets back to his feet, tastes himself in his mouth and swallows Jared's moan. Jared's hands are in Jensen's hair, on his back, warm and firm. Jensen shoves Jared's jeans down and Jared kicks them off and starts to walk Jensen backwards toward the bed. They're grinding their hips together, bare skin against bare skin, every move pulling a hiss from Jensen at the acute pleasure of it all. He grips Jared's dick, so fucking huge, and Jared's eyes flutter and close and he gasps, gripping Jensen tight against him, rocking his hips into Jensen's fist.

Jensen grabs at his arms as they tumble backwards, and he immediately spreads his legs, wants Jared between them, inside him, fucking this day right the fuck away. He rubs at Jared's thighs when Jared gets to his knees and leans to the side to rifle through his nightstand drawer, cursing irritably as he fumbles around. Jensen watches him pop the cap of the lube, watches him slick his fingers and spreads his legs wider.

"God, Jensen, you're fuckin'...You have no fuckin' idea, man," Jared mutters, spreading out over him, kissing Jensen again roughly. "You done this before?"

"Yeah," Jensen answers, and Jared looks up at him, open curiosity on his face. "Long time ago, when I was like, nineteen, just a couple times." Jared nods, breathes deep, eyes so black blown there's barely any hazel left at all. His hair is sticking to his face and Jensen pushes it out of the way. "You?"

"Yeah," Jared says, but he doesn't expand and Jensen doesn't really want him to. "I'll go easy. Won't hurt you."

Jensen snorts, grins, pulls Jared down and says, "I can take it."

Jared kisses his shoulder and neck and mouth, dips his tongue inside, slides it over the bottoms of Jensen's teeth and the hollow at the roof of his mouth, shifting to make room for his hand to slide down between Jensen's legs. Jensen tenses a little at the press of cool, slick fingers, just touching, feeling, and then groans low as one slides inside.

Jensen flashes back to a few months ago, that night on the couch with the Food Network and the cucumber and Jared's hand on his dick for the first time and heat rushes into his cheeks, his lips catch on a smile and a gasp and he covers his eyes with one hand, his other clutching at Jared's back.

"Jen? You goin' damsel in distress on me? Because that's kind of a turn off, dude."

Jensen laughs without meaning to, chokes on a moan when Jared crooks his finger and glides over his prostate and bright hot pleasure surges through him. 

"Fuck you," he murmurs, widening his legs and peering at Jared through a gap in his fingers. "You've got your finger in my ass."

"You make it sound so _crass_ ," says Jared, and Jensen lets his hand slide off his face, opens his mouth to finish the rhyme but finds Jared's tongue there and moans instead, closes his lips around it and kisses him back.

Jared's hot, so fucking hot, every part of him and even with the low burn of awkwardness—best friend getting all up in your business awkwardness—Jensen's still more turned on than he's just about ever been. Jared's back is slick with sweat already and Jensen's hand is slipping, so he wraps the other arm around Jared's waist, shoves his hips down and swears into Jared's mouth when another finger pushes inside.

The burn isn't bad, and Jared's good at this—of course he is, has been at every new step they've taken in this direction and Jensen has a second to wonder about it, to wonder about the random nights Jared isn't at the house and if any of the people he's spending those with are men. Jared's fingers are sure and _long_ , reaching up inside him, pulling him apart and scrubbing over his prostate so Jensen's panting for breath. He threads his hand into Jared's hair when Jared adds another finger, tugs on sweat-damp tangles hard.

"Jay, man, c'mon. I'm good, I'm good—"

"Yeah," Jared murmurs, voice low and gravel-rough. He sounds strung out, horny. Jensen looks up at him, at the flush in his cheeks and his black-blown, heavy-lidded eyes and the shift of muscle over his back when he pulls his fingers out to roll the condom down over himself. Jensen feels empty in the wake, weird, all dressed up and nowhere to go, but then Jared's right back there, nudging Jensen's legs further apart and gripping his dick to line up. He's holding himself up on one arm, his bicep just ridiculous enough for Jensen to lick the bead of sweat sliding down his skin and sink his teeth into. " _Fuck, Jensen,_ " Jared pants, "Kinky little—"

Jensen hefts his upper body up, tugs on Jared's hair hard and kisses him again. Jared gets an arm around his back, takes his weight and hauls him up so he's sitting back on his heels and Jensen's straddling his lap. His dick is caught between them, smearing precome all over Jared's abs.

"No more biting," Jared says, but he sounds disappointed and Jensen tongues at Jared's earlobe. Jared rolls his hips up, grinds his cock into the cleft of Jensen's ass and drags the pads of his fingers down Jensen's spine, over the swell of his ass. "Like this? Want me to fuck you like this? Ride me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, just—"

They move really well together, always have, has made their jobs a lot easier than they could be with the kind of chemistry they've got. Jensen spreads his knees on either side of Jared's thighs a little further so he can take his own weight, lift himself up off Jared's lap. He looks down between them, watches Jared grip the base of his own cock and smear lube all over. Jensen's mouth is dry, his heart pounding, he's so fucking hot it's hard to breathe through it.

It's been a long time since Jensen's done this, and Jared's hung like a goddamn gorilla and it _burns_ when Jared lines up and rocks his hips up, when Jensen arches his back a little and eases himself down. It's this slow, deep ache that has Jensen clenching up all over. He digs his fingers into Jared's scalp, into his back, squeezes his eyes shut and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

"Hey, hey," Jared says, low and soothing and Jensen wants to punch him in the face. "S'okay."

"Yeah," Jensen's voice is tight, his ass throbbing. "After this, I'm going to go find a baseball bat and shove it up your ass and see how much you like it."

Jared laughs a little, breathy, dips his fingers into the cleft of Jensen's ass to feel where the head of his cock is buried inside and it's just about the hottest thing Jensen's ever felt, pulls this punched-out sound from deep in his chest. He dips his chin and licks his way into Jared's mouth, feels Jared's dick spread him open wide as he lowers himself down. Both of Jared's hands are on him now, one on his hip, thumb rubbing slow circles in the hollow of the bone, the other up in Jensen's hair. Jensen's sweaty, can feel the flush in his face and over his shoulders and chest, can feel Jared's cock throbbing in his ass, his ass pulsing around Jared's cock.

"Fuck," he breathes once Jared's buried to the hilt, knocks their foreheads together. His lips feel chapped and wet. Jared's breath is hot against his chin.

"I feel like we've reached new heights in our relationship."

"I feel like there's a pole in my ass."

"You like it."

Jensen would deny it, just to take that smug look off Jared's face, but Jared rocks his hips up, grinds the head of his dick into Jensen's prostate and Jensen just opens his mouth and groans low and guttural instead.

"Maybe a little," he manages eventually. Jared laughs, low and sweet, tongues at the hinge of Jensen's jaw and Jensen finds his balance again, lifts himself up and grinds slowly back down. The ache of it is good, the burn and the intensity and the angle. It's messy and sloppy and hot, Jared's mouth and Jared's dick and the body under him all hard muscle instead of soft curves. Jensen's hand is freckly and pale against Jared's ribs.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Jensen, you're fuckin' tight—"

"Shut up," Jensen laughs breathily, tension easing now, Jared's cock a slick slide up into him, deeper than anything's ever been before. "You're not a pornstar."

"But I could be," Jared argues, hitching Jensen up further, arm slung low over Jensen's hips. Jared mouths at Jensen's chest, tongue slick around his nipple and Jensen shoves himself down hard, grips Jared's shoulder for leverage to pull himself up, push himself down.

It doesn't last long enough, it's too much, too good, it's been long enough that it feels new and Jared's really fucking good. He's rocking his hips in time with Jensen, rubbing his fingers over the cleft of Jensen's ass again, tugging on Jensen's hair and he's so damn mouthy, all "Jensen" and "so good" and "fuck you just like this" and "ride me, Jen, fuck, yes."

When he comes it's abrupt, shocking, pleasure pulled so tight and hard from him that his vision whites out. His eyes roll back and close and he's trembling, hips shuddering, legs straining as he rides through it, spills hot and copious all over their stomachs. Jared's hands are all over him and his skin is wet and soft and hot under Jensen's fingernails digging half-moons into his shoulders. He's just on the cusp of coming back to himself when Jared bodily lifts him up and knocks him onto his back, still inside him. Jensen gasps roughly, swears into Jared's hair and holds on tight as Jared shoves himself in hard once, twice, and then makes this hot, choked sound in his throat as he comes right off the waves of Jensen's orgasm and Jensen gets all swept up in it again.

Minutes or hours or days later, Jared picks his head up from Jensen's shoulder slowly. He's flushed and sweaty and his eyes are sleepy and lazy, sated. Jensen rubs his hands up and down his sides, pleasantly sore, impossibly content. Fuck, but he needed that.

"Jay," he says seriously. "You're the greatest best friend ever."

Jared snorts, pulls out slowly, gets rid of the condom and collapses onto his back. Jensen's not sure what they should do, if he should touch or unstick Jared's hair from his face or like, wrap around him or something, but they're not chicks and they're not together, so he just lies there for a few minutes and catches his breath, turns his head to look at Jared and catches his eyes.

"Thanks dude, seriously," he says. "I really needed that."

Jared's grinning again, his teeth a flash of perfect white in the watery blood red light seeping into the room as the sun goes down. "Well," he drawls, "it was a huge sacrifice on my part, but y'know. A friend in need." Jensen smacks him tiredly and Jared chuckles. "Seriously," he says. "You okay?"

Jensen hums an affirmative. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Y'know. I'll get over it. Just wish I knew what happened."

"Yeah," Jared says sympathetically, and the silence after is comfortable.

Jensen sits up a few minutes later, before he gets too sleepy. Jared watches him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I'm gonna shower."

Jared nods. "Mmkay. Me too, probably. Might just nap though."

Jensen grins and stands up, stretching, wincing at the perfect ache in his ass. Jared's a big, big guy. He's gonna feel this for days. He grabs his jeans and tugs them back on, but doesn't bother to fasten them up. He grabs his shirt and shoes and socks, and looks back to find Jared with his eyes closed, breathing slow and even, not quite asleep but getting there. There's an ache in Jensen's chest, something wounded, and he swallows hard.

"See you downstairs?" he asks.

"Mm," Jared agrees, and Jensen grins again and heads for his side of the house and a shower.

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In the last episode they film right before Christmas, Sam spends half of it in nothing but a towel around his waist, because he was abducted by the monster of the week from the bathroom after a shower. It's a comic relief episode, and Jensen thinks it's actually pretty damn funny in general, but Jared is always, always uncomfortable in any scene where he's got to have his shirt off. It never shows through on screen, but Jensen figures this time Jared'll be relieved that a little of his anxiety will get to show through. Sam having his shirt off while he's working out is one thing, Sam walking around in public in nothing but a towel is another, no matter how proud of his body he is.

Jensen's never really paid attention to it before, because it's not like Jared is shy about it or anything, just comments a few times on how weird it is to act like that, what with all of his big rippling muscles, and then goes about finishing up the scene and getting right back into a shirt as soon as he can. But he's never had to film this long without most of his clothes on, and even though he takes the good-natured cat calls and whistles with a smile, he doesn't play it up like he would just about anything else, and he's holding himself different than he normally does when the cameras aren't rolling. He hunches his shoulders and ducks his head, like he's trying to make himself smaller, wraps his arms around his waist casually, and fusses with the snap-button fastening of the towel around his waist constantly, like he can't get it tight enough around his hips.

In a way, Jensen gets being less than thrilled with these scenes when he has to do them. He doesn't like feeling like a slab of meat, and he knows that the network didn't hire them just for their acting skills, but it's still irksome to think about it. So he's always pretty reluctant to strip down himself, but he's not sure that's Jared's issue with it. In fact, if Jensen didn't know better, and he's not entirely sure he does, now, as he sips at his coffee and watches Jared lean down to talk to Jim, he'd say that Jared's embarrassed. Which is fucking insane, because Jared is ripped, all broad shoulders and slim hips and long limbs, and he works out more than anyone Jensen's ever met. Hell, he has his own gym in the basement of the house. Even if they weren't occasionally getting off together, Jensen's secure enough to admit that Jared is hot. Like burning.

Whatever the case may be, Jared's in a better mood once he dons Sam's layers again, and Jensen shrugs Dean back on like a jacket, easing himself back into his other half's head.

Sam and Dean are parked in a field, night falling around them. The cooler is open on the ground and they're settled on the hood of the Impala. Dean's a mess of guilt and hope, all sharp, painful edges, a weight in the pocket of his jacket that's barely there but that he can feel like he's been carrying a boulder around all day. Sam is leaning back on his hands, long legs spread just a little, his beer bottle held between his thighs, eyes on the sky. He's quiet and lost in his head, like Sammy always is, thinking too much, stressing, maybe ignoring whatever his memories of Hell are plaguing him with today. Dean shifts where he sits, clears his throat softly.

"So," he says, and Sam looks around at him, an eyebrow raised.

"So," he repeats dryly.

Dean takes a long pull from the beer in his hand before he continues. "So when I was going through your bag to get you clothes earlier, I found something."

He knows Sam knows immediately what he's talking about, can tell by the way Sam stiffens, by the way his eyes widen and his lips part, by the way his eyes dart away and he turns his head to look out over the field again. The wind ruffles his hair.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, an attempt at casual that fails spectacularly. Dean knows his little brother too well.

"Yeah," he answers, and shifts his weight so he can dig around in his pocket. His fingers curl around the leather thong and he pulls it out, the amulet familiar and body-warm, dangling down off his palm, the leather curled into his hand. "Found something I thought I'd never see again."

Sam is uncomfortable, shoulders pulling in as he drags his feet up off the ground to bend his knees, toes resting on the grill, one hand rubbing at his knee. "Huh," he says, and his eyes are glued to amulet, but he doesn't reach for it, shies away from it instead. Dean unfolds the necklace and ducks his head to put it on, breathes deep as a weight he hadn't realized how bad he'd missed until right now settles on his chest, and tension he didn't know was there leaks out of his shoulders.

"Dean," Sam says, his gaze still locked there, on the amulet around Dean's neck and everything it means. "You don't have to."

"Shut up," Dean tells him easily, lying back on the car, looking up at the sky, cloudy and starless. They're quiet for a few seconds, and then he says. "That night I tossed it. It was—"

"I know," Sam cuts him off. "It doesn't matter."

"I was pissed," Dean tells him.

"You wanted to hurt me like I hurt you," Sam says, and Dean frowns, but doesn't argue. "I know, Dean."

"Whatever," Dean says. "I'm glad you kept it." He rolls his eyes at the look Sam gives him, all touched and little-brother hopeful.

And then Jared makes his eyes big and round and wet, sniffles theatrically. "I-I just. I love you so much, man!" he sobs, and Jensen grunts as Jared latches onto him with his full weight, nearly taking them off the car. The crew around them laughs, and Jim says "Jared, you had two lines left!" irritably and Jared's cackling a little as he pulls himself up straight, pleased with himself.

They get it the next take, and Jim reluctantly forgives Jared, and Jensen is now, officially, on Christmas break. He's going home to Texas tomorrow, hasn't seen his family in almost a year, and gets to bask in two full weeks off before production starts up again. Jared does Christmas at home every year too, but he's got two more days of pick-ups before he can head out to San Antonio. Jensen feels for him—he had to stay until Christmas Eve last year—but he stumbles pleased and exhausted to wardrobe, in a particularly good mood considering he's usually pretty snappy by the end of a day this long.

Clif drops them off at the house right after nine, and Jensen joins Jared on his walk with the dogs, Harley's leash a comfortable wait in his hand. It's quiet out, and the snow crunches under their boots as they walk, out of sync and side-be-side.

"So you ever get your flight worked out?" Jensen asks tiredly.

"Nah," Jared answers, the hesitation obvious even though his voice is casual. Jensen looks around at him, eyebrow raised and Jared shrugs. "I'm gonna stay here. I've gotta be back on set a few days after to look panicked while Dean is missing anyway. So I just figured, y'know..."

Jensen doesn't know what to say. Jared once went home for Christmas on a forty-one hour break from work. Five days is like heaven. Whatever it is that happened over the summer—and it must've been something with his family—it's still going on, and Jared still doesn't want to talk about. He's got this look on his face now, like he knows that Jensen can see through this. His eyes are hard, his smile strained. Jensen wants to ask, but he doesn't. Instead he nods, winds Harley's leash around his wrist and nudges Jared's shoulder with his own as they walk on.

"Sure," he says. "Yeah. Makes sense."

Jared's expression softens a little, a silent 'thank you'. 

The next morning, Jared drops him off at the airport and walks him to the security gate. They bump fists, and then Jared makes a desperate sound, crinkles his face up like he's about to burst into tears, and wraps Jensen up in a hug. They're a little more well-known here than anywhere else now. Jensen can feel the camera-phones snapping pictures of them. He winds his arms around Jared as well as he can without dislodging his bag from his shoulder and pats his back. Jared smacks a kiss to the side of his face.

"Hey, I just met you," Jared says.

"What?"

"And this is crazy."

"Jared."

"But here's my number."

" _Jared_ \--"

"So call me, maybe?"

"I hate you."

Jared smiles wide and Jensen, out of the blue, wants to kiss him. 

But he doesn't.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

"So, Jensen," his mom says over dinner the first night he's there, "how's your sex life?"

Jensen inhales his coke rather than swallows it, Josh drops a scoop of mashed potatoes onto the tablecloth, his wife Alison gasps and covers her mouth, and McKenzie looks around her gaping boyfriend Logan to gape right with him. His dad, of course, hums tunelessly, a small smile on his face as he dishes himself up some meatloaf, and his mom smiles at him demurely.

"Mom!" he says, scandalized. It's not like she's ever had any qualms asking him about his personal life, but usually not in front of Ali and sure as hell not in front of Logan, who has only been dating Mac for a few months and is certainly not ready to be welcomed into the family quite like this.

"I can't believe you asked that!" McKenzie hisses, but she shares a look with Ali and the two of them break out into laughter, Ali's mouth still hidden behind her hand.

"Well!" his mom says, "last time we spoke you told me not to ask you about relationships anymore, so that's all I have left, right? I'm not naïve enough to think you've stopped having sex."

"Oh my God," Jensen whispers. His ears are burning furiously. Josh is staring at his plate with a giant shit-eating grin on his face, and Logan is shuffling closer to Mac like she might be able to protect him, though he's nearly the size of Jared.

"So?" his mom prompts, propping her chin on her folded hands and smiling slyly, like she knows exactly what he's doing. "Any memorable young ladies?"

"Or young men," his dad adds.

"Or young men," his mom agrees.

Jensen pales, and Josh is snorting into his drink, now. Jensen would throw a roll at him but he seems to have lost control of his motor functions. "What?" he says weakly. "How did you—"

"Jensen, please," his mom says. "We've known for years. You're our son."

"We're very proud of you," his dad says, as though he might have been coached for this conversation.

"We figured you might lean more toward women," Mac adds, grinning, "but we kinda always knew."

"Oh!" his mom says, like she just thought of something, and Jensen's eyes slide back to her. His mouth is getting dry, but he still can't manage to close it all the way, the shock too great. He's pretty sure his entire body is bright red. "You didn't with Jared did you?" she says. "You're still rebounding! And he's such a nice guy, Jensen, don't break his heart."

Jensen sputters. "I am not—we're not—what do you mean don't break his heart! Shouldn't you be threatening him instead of me in this hypothetical dream world of yours?"

"Well," his mom says, shrugging, and fails to expand from there. "I have to admit, you'd make a handsome couple. Of course, I'd be very disappointed about the lack of grandchildren, but Josh and Ali are trying now, and you could always adopt."

"Mom," Jensen says.

"Just imagine if one of you could get pregnant though," she says dreamily. "Can you imagine a baby with your eyes and his smile?"

" _Mom_ ," Jensen says again, and this time the entire rest of the table is laughing, even Mac's boyfriend. Jensen looks around for a camera, like he's getting punked or something, but nothing happens and he slumps down in his seat, caught somewhere between aching relief that his parents are okay with the whole bisexuality thing, amusement, and embarrassment. To make himself feel better, he finally manages to pelt a roll at Josh, who's cackling behind his napkin. It hits his brother right in the middle of the forehead and Josh cries out loud and high-pitched, which perks Jensen up.

Before he goes to bed that night, he kisses his mom on the cheek, and she smiles and grips his chin and says, "We love you, Jen, no matter what."

"I know, mom," he says, smiling. "I love you guys too."

In bed that night, he thinks about what they said, though, how they assumed he and Jared were together, or if it was a joke. It's not like Jensen hasn't thought about it, in the abstract, only-when-he's-drunk kind of way. They've lived together for years now, minus the three that he was with Danneel, and Jared's the best friend he's ever had bar none, and they have spent quite a bit of time the last six months fooling around with each other, but it's never been anything more than that. Jared's never shown any inclination toward wanting that, and Jensen has no idea how he feels about it himself. It's so easy between them now. He doesn't want that messed up.

With a sleepy, comfortable sigh, he picks up his phone and finds Jared's name, snorts at the picture of a bunny made out of symbols that Jared sent him as his last message, and taps out a text to him early in the morning after Jensen let him know he made it to the house okay, and taps out a new text: _what's up asshat?_

Jared answers almost immediately: _nuthin buttmunch. teaching harley to bring me a coke_

Jensen smiles. _how's that going?_

_so far he brought me the bouncy ball, his squeaky duck, and sadie_

_he brought you sadie?_

_grabbed her by her collar and pulled her over._

Jensen laughs silently, just picturing that. _my parents asked about my sex life @ dinner_

_you win_

Jensen snorts and puts his phone back on the nightstand, huddles under the blankets and turns onto his stomach, smushing his face into his pillow. He's asleep in minutes.

The next week passes by in a part-stressful, part-awesome collage of family and friends, but on Christmas day it's just the family, Mac and Josh and Ali and Jensen and his parents. It's relaxing and comfortable. He's never seen Josh so happy as he is with his wife, can't believe how much McKenzie's grown up. His parents ham it up, pass out presents from under the tree and stockings, turn Christmas music up and waltz around the living room like they're at a ball and then force Josh and Ali to join them and Jensen takes it upon himself to grapple his little sister up to dance with him. Jensen gets a few books he's been wanting from his parents, an Amazon gift card from Josh and Ali, a UT sweatshirt and a Matchbox Car model of Dean's Impala from Mac, and a bunch of trinkety crap that he'll keep forever in his stocking.

That night they go to the big extended family gathering at his grandmother's house, and Jensen is swamped by his cousins' little kids because he will forever be known as the coolest grown up ever. He fights monsters on TV _and_ he colors Hello Kitty and Star Wars: The Clone Wars like nobody's business. He gets to spend a lot of time with his grandma, which is awesome because they've always been close and he doesn't get to see her enough, and his favorite cousins.

They don't get back to the house until around one in the morning, and Jensen's stuffed full of awesome food and is warm and happy and almost content. He says goodnight to his parents and sister and brother and sister-in-law, and goes into his room. He grabs his luggage and digs through it to find pajama pants and a t-shirt, and knocks his knuckles against something hard and smooth. Curious, he draws it out of the bag.

It's a gift, wrapped in red paper that has snowmen on it, a note tucked beneath the ribbon tied around it. He recognizes Jared's messy scrawl immediately:  
 _Jen –  
Saw this and thought of you. Well, your grandpa, and thought  
you would too. I'm pretty sure it's the real deal.  
Merry Christmas!  
-Jared_

Curious and cautious, the grief for his late grandfather still very present, he slides the box out of the ribbon and unwraps it, pulls the plain brown lid off of the plain brown box and looks inside. For a second, he can't breathe. It's a pocket watch, antique and golden, a little scuffed but kind of beautiful, and the year engraved on the clasp is 1929. He opens it carefully, and inside the glass over the face of the watch is a little cracked, and the backing is faded and the hands no longer move, but it's well taken care of beyond that, the Roman numerals still very clear, and very familiar crest imprinted on the watch face in red dye. _Ackles & Anderson_.

His chest is kind of tight, and his lips are tingling. He reattaches the back panel of the watch and closes it, sets it back into its spot in the box and just looks at it. Jared made it sound so casual in the note, but Jensen's grandpa died four years ago, and these aren't easy to find. Jensen knows. He's looked. Never came close. This must've taken a lot of effort. He can't even believe Jared remembered.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket immediately, touched beyond all reason. He and Jared talked this morning, the usual Christmas phone call, and he got a text around noon thanking him profusely for his gift to Jared (a Troy Aikman Cowboys jersey, signed by the man himself, who Jensen had spent months using every contact he had to get ahold of because Jared had been in junior high when the Cowboys won two Super Bowls with the holy trinity and he'd told Jensen he'd wanted to be Aikman when he grew up), but that was it. He touches Jared's name on his favorites list and listens to it ring.

"Hey," Jared says genially as soon as he picks up. He sounds pretty chipper considering it's eleven o'clock right now in Vancouver. "What's the haps, Mr. Ackles?"

"Jay, man, the watch."

"Oh, found that huh?" Jared says, and he's probably trying to sound smug but Jensen knows him too well, can hear the shyness there.

"I. Dude, I don't even know what to say."

"Easy," Jared says. "Say you love it."

"I love it," Jensen laughs. He swipes the pad of his thumb over the ridged texture of the watch cover almost reverently. "Really. I do. This is. It's something of _his_ , y'know? It's perfect."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good," Jared says. 

Jensen grins again, rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to thank you, jackass."

"You're welcome," Jared answers. "I already have the jersey framed and hanging in my bedroom. I don't have any idea how you did it but it's like Mary Poppins."

"What?"

"'Practically perfect in every way.'"

"Yeah, well," Jensen says. "I'm pretty good, too."

Jared laughs and Jensen's chest clenches in a way it has no right to. He doesn't want to hang up the phone. He wishes Jared were here. His body is tight and hot with it. It's only been a week and Jensen misses him like a limb's been cut off. These, he thinks, are not normal platonic best friend feelings.

He's surprisingly okay with that.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

By the next morning, Jensen's got all these ideas in his head, ideas he hasn't had since he was with Danneel. Ideas of sharing a bedroom and upgrading the gym in the basement and Jared being the first thing he sees when he wakes up every morning. His entire body is thrumming with it, and even while the logical part of himself keeps trying to talk him down (he doesn't know how Jared actually feels about this, and they're actors, this won't be easy, and does he really want to change the thing they've got going now?), most of him just wants to get back to Jared and claim him in the name of king, or something.

"Hey," he tells his parents over breakfast. He's got a bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him. It's sometimes impossible to feel like a grown up in this house. "I'm gonna go back home today."

His dad looks at him over his reading glasses, his laptop open on the table in front of him. His mom's just back from a jog and is chugging down a glass of water. She raises an eyebrow at him when she's done, smacking her lips.

"You'll apologize to your brother and sister?"

"Yes ma'am."

She smiles. "Don't forget Jared's present. It's still under the tree."

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

He doesn't manage to get a flight back to Vancouver until ten thirty central time that night, and the cab drops him off at the house around eleven. It's silent inside, the dogs not even moving from their pile of pillows on the living room floor. He's about to go upstairs and head to bed, but the light in the kitchen is on and the heavy oak back door is open, the light on outside on the deck where Jared must be.

Jensen drops his bag on the floor, tosses his keys and wallet onto the table inside the door, nearly face plants into the floor when he trips over the loose cord of Jared's damn blender and makes his way to the closed screen glass door. Jared's leaning against the railing, a bottle of beer open and half-empty next to his elbow. He's wrapped in a loose coat that smacks heavily against his leg when he whirls around at the sound of the door opening.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen!" he chokes, hand held to his chest. "Give me a fucking heart attack."

Jensen bites his lip on a laugh and shoves his hands into his pockets, closing the distance between them. "Sorry."

Jared's smiling now. He looks pale in the light, but his dimples are deep. "You are not."

"Nah."

"What're you doin' here?"

Jensen didn't have any of this planned. He sure as hell didn't think of making like a chick flick and sweeping Jared off his feet, but that's what he does.

Figuratively, of course, because Jared could pick him up and carry him around like luggage if he wanted to.

He grips Jared by the lapels of his coat and pulls him in, smashes their lips together hot and heavy and slides his arms up under Jared's coat, under his shirt to feel warm skin. It only takes a couple of shocked seconds before Jared gets it together, gets one hand on Jensen's hip and the other at the nape of Jensen's neck and opens his mouth to Jensen's tongue.

By the time the kiss breaks they're both breathing hard, visible puffs of cloud in the air between them. Jared's lips are slick and wet. His eyes are heavy-lidded.

"I came back early," says Jensen.

"No shit," Jared deadpans.

"Come upstairs?"

Jared's quiet for a second, studies Jensen's face and Jensen's not sure what it means but it feels like a test, so he keeps still. The hand Jared has on the nape of his neck slides around to Jensen's cheek and Jensen turns his head, presses his lips over the palm, listens to Jared a quiet, slow breath.

"Yeah," Jared says. "Upstairs."

The few times that they've fucked, it's been in Jared's room or on the couch or, on one memorable occasion, on the belt of the treadmill down in the basement gym. Jensen wants to see Jared all spread out over his sheets now, though, so when they stumble upstairs Jensen walks him backwards to his bedroom.

It meshes up well with the picture Jensen's got in his head. They slow it down this time, spend a lot of time making out and stripping each other down. Jared tastes like toothpaste and he smells like cologne and clean skin and sweat, and after neither of them can take the foreplay anymore Jared slicks him up, opens him up and fucks him slow and deep, all hot, searching kisses. It's more intimate than they've ever been before and Jensen comes hard and hot between them, feels Jared's cock throb and pulse inside him.

"Jen," Jared murmurs after they've both come down, condom gone and come smeared into their skin. He's got his forehead on Jensen's chest, is rubbing his hands up and down Jensen's side. Jensen cups his cheek, grips his chin and lifts his head, guides Jared up to kiss him again. They end up on their sides, sliding slick and hot against each other until they come again, mouths fused together, the only sound in the room the slick wet smack of lips to lips and skin on skin.

They tangle together, and Jensen feels lighter than he has in a long time. Feels awesome. This is good. This is what he wants. Jared's heavy overtop him. Jensen presses his mouth to the side of his neck, shoves Jared's hair back out of his face. If this were a girl, Jensen's pretty sure he'd tell her something sweet, that he missed her or that he's glad he came back. But it's Jared, and the words get caught in his throat. They fall asleep before he can think of what to say.

In the morning, Jensen wakes up lethargically, feeling sated and happy and well-rested until he sees Jared, already dressed, hair still damp from the shower, sitting on the side of the bed, his back pressed into Jensen's legs. Jensen's heart sinks at the look on Jared's face, his expression soft and worried and unhappy, mouth pulled down slightly at the corners. He looks like he's barely slept at all.

"Hey," Jared says, and tries for a smile. Jensen sits up slowly, his muscles aching in a fantastic way, and lets the covers pool around his waist.

"Hey," he answers. His mouth still feels swollen and kiss bruised. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jared answers. "I just..."

He trails off, eyes searching Jensen's face, and Jensen frowns at him thoughtfully. "You just..." he prompts, though he's pretty sure he knows where this is going.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Jared says quietly, and yeah, there it is. Jensen's a little shocked at how quickly the ache in his chest forms. He has to fight not to lift a hand to it, try to rub it out like it's a sore muscle... "This, I mean," Jared continues. "You and me. It becoming more than...than what it has been."

"Sure," Jensen says, and it comes out a little stony but he doesn't mean for it to. It's his default defense mechanism whenever something hurts him. He shuts down, goes cold and angry. He's been this way since he was a little kid and it was bullies on the playground tugging on his heart strings in all the wrong ways. He's not angry. He's not even really surprised. It had all seemed like a realistic thing when his parents were talking about it like it was already solid, when he was a couple thousand miles away and had the world's greatest Christmas present and the idea of this thing with him and Jared turning into something _more_ was brand new and shocking.

"Jen," Jared says, and Jensen lifts his eyes. Jared looks guilty as hell, wretched. "Dude, it's not. It's not what you think. I just can't. You're my best friend, man. You're my _best friend_."

He doesn't say anything else, though Jensen can see him trying to come up with the words, trying desperately to make things better, and he deflates a little, the ache in his chest overwhelming, now from both rejection and the sight of Jared so upset. He immediately reaches for him, grips Jared's shoulder. He understands. Kind of. Mostly. Doesn't stop it from hurting like a fucking bitch, though.

"Dude, no, I get it," he says reassuringly. "You're my best friend too. Nothing'll change that, y'know? I get it."

Jared looks at him for a long time, and Jensen really just kind of wants him to get out now. Jared's always kind of done this to him. They've lived together too long, been friends for too long, had a metric ton of usually really stupid fights, and whenever it happens Jensen's always furiously torn between wanting to punch Jared in the face and wrap around him and make everything better for him, even when it is his fault in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Jared says softly.

"It's cool," Jensen says, managing a smile for him. "I'm gonna shower."

"Jensen..."

Jensen is shoving at the covers, very aware of the fact that he's naked now as he climbs out of the bed. Jared says his name again before Jensen sighs and looks at him.

"Just gimme a little bit, huh?" he asks him. "I get what you're saying, I really do. Just gimme time to like, lick my wounds and stuff."

"Fuck," Jared swears, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. "I didn't mean to...I'm so fucking sorry, man."

"I know," Jensen says. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, but I know."

The idea of Jared being _his_ has only been in his head for a couple of days. It's not like he was all that invested, or anything. He looks at Jared, at his stupid long hair and long, long body and sad hazel eyes and feels his stomach squirm uncomfortably. Okay, so maybe he was a little invested. He'll be fine. Nothing is worth losing Jared as his best friend, and if that's the only way Jensen can have him then that's fine. Jensen's not in love (fuck he's so completely head over ass in love), he'll be fine.

Reluctantly, Jared walks to the door, but he stops at the threshold, looks back, biting at his lower lip. "We're. We'll be okay, right?"

Jensen rolls his eyes at him. "Yeah, Jay. We're fine. We'll be good."

Jared doesn't look convinced. He leans his head against the doorjamb and says, "Jensen, I'm. It's not you. It's really—it's me. I'm not enough, man. I can't."

Jensen has no idea what to say to that, can't even get the air to form words, because _what the ever-loving fuck_ does that mean? Jared gives him one last glance, and leaves before Jensen can say anything to that, head hung low as he lopes down the hall. Jensen watches him until he turns the corner and then drops back down to sit on his bed, exhausted and heartsick.

This blows.

He spends the rest of the day in his bedroom, watching crappy TV and moping, playing a few video games on his Playstation 2 and reading some. But mostly moping. The next morning, he goes downstairs and finds Jared sitting at the kitchen island, both dogs sitting on either side of his stool, watching him poke at a bowl of cereal. When he looks up, Jensen grins at him awkwardly, and he grins awkwardly back.

"So, I thought we might take the beasts to the park," Jensen says conversationally. 

Jared looks obscenely hopeful. "Yeah?" he asks, mouth pulled into a precarious smile.

"Yeah," Jensen says.

So they do. They take the dogs to run around at the deserted park two days after Christmas, and have the biggest snowball fight in the history of the world, and come home exhausted and laughing, shoving at each other as they walk, getting tangled in the dogs leashes which leads to wrestling around on the floor until Jensen pins Jared to the floor right inside the front door and shout victoriously and Jared laughs like an idiot, winded.

Not all the awkwardness has dissipated, but it's almost normal. It's enough.

Things are a little stilted for a while, but by the end of the hiatus they're right back to normal. Jared is huge and hilarious and laughs a lot, and is just as tactile as ever. He seems fine, normal, and Jensen wishes he had the first fucking clue about what sort of shit Jared's got going in that crazy-ass brain of his, because this is too much.

He pushes it out of his head, or tries. They've got three more months of filming and then they'll hit summer hiatus, and he's thinking he'll have a movie premiering and promotions for that and conventions and he'll be too busy to feel like this anymore anyway. He can do this. Jared doesn't want it. It's not like Jensen's a stranger to rejection.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

"Not enough what?"

"I don't fucking know, man, that's all he said."

"Huh," Chris says helpfully. "Weird."

Jensen sighs. "Yeah."


	6. Chapter 6

February brings with it the worst snow-slash-ice storm that Vancouver has seen in years, and Jeremy calls a reluctant end to the day around noon on the thirteenth, when the roads are getting so bad that people are starting to leave with or without permission in order to get home in one piece.

Jensen, for his part, is glad, because he's been feeling like shit for a week now, but he woke up this morning with the worst headache he's ever had and his stomach has been churning all morning. Jared's been eying him for a couple of days, and if things weren't as awkward between them as they currently are Jensen figures he'd have been called in sick by Jared before now, but as it stands, Jared's apparently feeling guilty enough to let Jensen make his own decisions, which isn't, surprisingly, something Jensen really wants from him. It's been a little over a month, and God, he misses Jared. It's not like he _misses_ him like he's gone, because things really are mostly normal and they laugh and hang out and do stuff and work and he sees Jared all the time. But he misses sex with him, misses being in bed with him, misses touching him in ways that are far beyond friendly, and he really, really shouldn't be ruminating on this while he's ill because it just makes it all so much worse.

He's been bundled into the car for ten minutes before Jared gets in. He must look pretty pathetic, because Jared's eyebrows draw in all sympathetic within seconds, and he says, "Aw, Jen," and grips Jensen's shoulder. Jensen would normally straighten up and brush him off and try to look the picture of health, but he feels crummy so instead he just frowns and sniffles extra snot back up his nose insolently, and then hack a few nasty-sounding wet coughs into the sleeve of his coat.

"If you say I told you so I _will_ kill you," Jensen tells him. He's all congested, his sinuses physically aching from it.

"Dude, I promise I take no pleasure in being right this time," Jared tells him, sounding so fucking sincere. "Being sick sucks."

"Mnh," says Jensen. Within seconds, Jensen finds himself being hauled across the backseat and up against Jared's ever-warm side, his very own human furnace. Jared's arm is tight around his shoulders, and he smells good, and his hair is soft on Jensen's forehead when he leans his head against Jared's cheek.

"This storm is supposed to last like a week," Jared tells him. "It'll suck when we're working seven days a week to catch back up, but it'll be enough time for you to get over your plague."

"Might get you sick," Jensen tells him, and Jared sounds so perky that he's not entirely sure if it's an apology or a threat, but Jared just shrugs and pats at his rock hard abs through his big puffy coat.

"Nah," he says confidently. "I've got the immune system of a buffalo."

"...Buffalo? Really? Do they get sick less than other animals?"

"Obviously."

"Hm," Jensen says.

When they get to the house, they bid Clif a good night and tell him to drive safe, and Jensen trudges his way into the house. It's supposedly warmer in here, and must be, from the way Jared's shedding out of his coat and the smaller jacket underneath it both, but Jensen's still feeling pretty glacial. He must be feverish. This blows.

"You wanna watch a movie or something?" Jared asks, hanging up his coat, and then taking Jensen's when Jensen reluctantly pulls it off to hang it up, too. He eyes Jensen up and down for several seconds, and then reaches for him. Jensen closes his eyes as Jared's big, warm hand rests over his forehead. It feels awesome. Jared tuts unhappily. "You might just want to crash, man. There is definite feverage."

"Feverage," Jensen snorts, shaking his head. His eyelids are so heavy and his eyes feel gritty and raw. He yawns hugely and toes out of his shoes, nudges them onto the rug by the door. He doesn't realize he's swaying until Jared is right there, gripping him by the arm.

"You've really got to like, take care of yourself, Jen," Jared says, sounding exasperated but fond.

"I do!" Jensen argues.

"Uh huh," Jared says.

"I'm sick," Jensen says, eyes already closing. He bats Jared's hand away though, and finds his balance. Jared's still right there, arms out to make sure Jensen doesn't fall on his ass. Jensen's pretty sure he stays standing just out of pride. "You can't be mean to me when I'm sick."

Jared bites his bottom lip on a grin, and it's so familiar and sweet and obnoxious and Jensen can see him doing it naked and in bed and with his hair tousled from Jensen's hands being in it and for a second he aches for that so much that it physically pulls him toward his roommate. But he catches himself, and swallows hard past his sore throat, and manages a quiet wave of his hand before turning and shuffling up the stairs.

"Holler if you need anything!" Jared calls. "And take Sadie! Sadie, be a good girl and go with Jensen."

Jensen's about to protest, but the clatter of toenails on wood floor and quadruped footsteps on the stairs are there before he can say anything. So he lets Sadie precede him into his bedroom, where she jumps up onto the bed and stretches out on one side immediately. Jensen strips out of his jacket and jeans, but leaves his socks and shirt on because he's freezing. He also digs around in his dresser until he finds a pair of sweats that must be Jared's, because they're too long and loose around the leg and comfortably secure around his Jared-dubbed child-bearing hips. He climbs into bed, glares balefully at the dog unapologetically taking up too much room, and falls asleep immediately.

The first time, Jensen _wakes up_ already puking, so it's not like he had a chance to make it to the bathroom in the first place. Still, it's all over him, and his bed, and it's awful and gross and he just barely manages to get to the bathroom for real before he's throwing up again, his throat tight, his stomach churning and churning and churning, cramping with every painful heave. He's pretty sure he's expelling everything he's ever eaten before. Ever. In his entire _life_. His mouth tastes like bile and film and his head is pounding. His eyes feel like someone's massaged sand deep into them and his skin feels too tight and itchy and _wrong_.

Vaguely, beyond the gut-clenching and his slippery, disgusting grip on the toilet, he's aware of his giant roommate arriving. Jared swears softly, says Jensen's name, and then slides down onto his knees next to him. He doesn't touch (which is good, because Jensen would punch him in the face if he tried to touch him while he was actively upheaving every organ in his body), but he keeps talking low and soothing and after a few seconds Jensen hears him shift on the tile and hears the sink faucet turn on before his entire being is taken over once again by the flip of his stomach.

When it stops, finally, he's achingly sore and exhausted and kind of dazed. He wants to rest his cheek on the cool porcelain and go back to sleep, but Jared is right there, flushing the toilet and handing Jensen a cool, wet washcloth. Jensen murmurs something, maybe a thank you, his eyes tearing up at just how fucking awful he feels, not to mention the smell, and he wipes his face and hands.

"Christ, man, you're a mess," Jared says unhelpfully.

"Fuck you," Jensen croaks.

Jared grins a little and then stands up, hauls Jensen up too. Jensen's so dizzy he almost falls, almost kills him that Jared's making him move at all, but Jared stays close, takes most of his weight. Jensen's mostly pliant, too weak to put up much of a fight. He lifts his arms when Jared tells him to and Jared peels the gross t-shirt off his body, and then dutifully steps out of his socks and the borrowed pair of sweats when Jared shoves those down his legs too. Jared grabs Jensen's toothbrush and puts toothpaste on it, and Jensen sluggishly brushes his teeth and tongue and every part of the inside of his mouth that he can reach. It does the trick, mostly. Jensen rinses and Jared drops the toothbrush directly into the trashcan. The room is spinning slowly, and if Jensen had anything left in his stomach he might throw up again. Instead, naked and shivering, he leans back into Jared, and sits down on the closed lid of the toilet when Jared guides him to.

Dazedly, he watches Jared open the glass door of the shower and turn the water on, watches it fall clean and steaming from the head, and he wants in there so bad he can taste it, can still feel the film of sick that soaked through his shirt and sweats on his skin. Jared's dressed in a pair of sleeping pants and nothing else, his chest and abs so cut, and Jensen remembers what they feel like under his hands. Under his tongue. He shivers again, face warm, body freezing.

"Jen, Jen, hey," Jared says, crouching down in front of him, and Jensen realizes he's been staring with his mouth kind of open at almost nothing for some passage of time. Jared grips his chin gently, his hand _so warm_. Jensen blinks at him. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't move."

"Mmnh," Jensen agrees. Moving is pretty much the last thing he might be capable of right now. He's still not entirely sure if he's actually _awake_. Jared gives him an encouraging grin like he's all of five years old, and disappears. Jensen's suddenly overwhelmingly alone. On some plane of existence, he's aware that he's an adult, that he's probably got a pretty high fever, and that it's very late at night when things tend to be worse in general. Most of him is just sick and alone though, and he counts down the seconds before Jared is right back, holding a clean pair of Jensen's boxers.

"Okay," Jared says. "C'mon, we gotta wash you off."

He watches Jared strip out of his own pajama pants, and then watches his perfect ass clench when he checks the water and it burns his hand. The next second, Jared's grabbing Jensen under the arms and pulling him up, and Jensen's gaze is caught absolutely by Jared's big, flaccid dick.

"Hey hey hey," Jared says, though he sounds more amused than scolding. "Eyes up here, you plague-infested germ basket."

"Germ basket?" Jensen repeats, offended, but he lets himself be carefully manhandled into the shower anyway.

"Germ basket," Jared affirms pointedly once they're both inside. The water is tepid, at best, and Jensen's so damn cold he tries to turn the hot up, but Jared catches his hand and says, "no", and Jensen doesn't have any strength to fight him, so he sighs heavily and leans back into Jared's chest.

The shower is actually pretty nice, roiling stomach aside. Jared is solid at his back and warm and water-slick and more than capable of holding up most of Jensen's weight. He's thorough with the soapy washcloth he manages one-handed, too, and it's so nice on Jensen's raw skin. His chest and sinuses are still badly congested, but the steam is helping with that. It's quiet, just the sound of the shower and sloshing water and their clumsy footsteps as they move around. The shower is big enough for both of them but only just, and Jensen knows he's more hindrance than help right now. Jared's hands are on him, his body against him, and part of him hates that he has to be so uncomfortably ill to get this now, but the rest of him is just basking in it.

"Jared," he says, when Jared's washing shampoo through his hair quickly, the scalp massage making Jensen sleepy.

"Mm?"

"You're good people, y'know?"

Jared huffs a quiet laugh, says, "Close your eyes for me, huh?" and Jensen does, since he asked so nice. He even manages to rub the shampoo out of his hair himself, Jared framing him and both arms around him to keep him upright. After that, Jared turns the water off and Jensen feels a little less disgusting than he did before, but weaker than he did before also. What little strength he had is gone. He's almost useless as Jared dries him off, though he does manage to pull the clean boxers on himself while Jared rubs himself down with the towel.

"My room," Jensen says, frowning, embarrassed and really wanting to lie down because his stomach is trying to crawl out of his throat again and he really doesn't want to have to redo all of that. "My bed."

"I know," Jared says. "I saw. It's okay. C'mon."

Jared grips his wrist and Jensen follows him out of the bathroom and down the hall in the opposite direction of Jensen's room, past two of the guest bedrooms and into the master. The bedside lamp is on and the covers are all rucked up. Jared must've been sleeping before.

"Dude," Jensen says, voice croaky. "'m sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be," Jared says with a smile. "Really. Being sick alone sucks. Here." And Jensen is pretty much tossed onto the bed, the blankets curled up around him in seconds. Jared's moving faster than should be humanly possible. Or maybe Jensen's brain is just processing things slower than normal. Whatever the case, he's horizontal and much more comfortable in a startlingly short amount of time, and Jared is crouching down by the side of the bed and his hand is on Jensen's forehead and then stroking back over Jensen's damp hair. Jensen doesn't get sick a lot. Not for real. But he knows that this isn't usually how one adult male acts toward another adult male who's under the weather, and it's confusing and nice and unsettling all at once. He wants to tell Jared that he can't do this, that he can't reject Jensen and then be like this, but it's Jared, and giving this kind of comfort up on a night like tonight isn't even fathomable.

"I'm gonna leave the bathroom light on, in case you wake up and need to get there fast again. There's a trashcan right here next to the bed, too, if that helps. And you can holler at me if you need anything, okay?"

Jensen reaches out, fingers at the sleep-ruffled hair spilling into Jared's eyes and nods. "Okay." He coughs, catches it in the bend of his elbow and clears his throat. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Jared says, though Jensen can only imagine how grossed out Jared must've been cleaning up after him. He stands up and leans over Jensen, presses his lips against Jensen's hairline, just rests them there, not a kiss but something intimate, and then pulls back with one last stroke of his fingers through Jensen's hair. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"Mm," Jensen murmurs. He can't think of anything else to say, and his eyes are closing involuntarily. He exhales deeply, turns onto his side and shoves his face into the pillow and wraps himself up in the sheets and comforter that smell just like Jared. A few minutes later, he hears the rumble of the washing machine start in the laundry room right below his bedroom, and figures Jared just changed his sheets out. It makes his chest ache, for some unknown reason, and he falls asleep just like that.

He spends a good portion of the rest of that night hurling like it's an Olympic sport. Jared is there a couple of times, armed with a wet washcloth and a toothbrush and a glass of water or a bottle of Diet Sprite or a thermometer. Jensen's got a high fever, but nothing dangerous, Jared assures him, even as he gnaws worriedly on his lower lip. Jensen's less and less lucid as the night wears on, though, and the last time he remembers darting into the bathroom all he can really recollect is the feel of warm, dry hands on the back of his neck at some point and the sensation of carbonation and sweetener on his sore throat.

When he wakes up for real, with almost all of his brain cells intact, it's streaming wintery daylight through the closed blinds of Jared's bedroom, and there's a bottle of water and a couple of pills on the nightstand next to the digital clock, that tells him it's almost four in the afternoon. His entire body is aching like one giant bruise, and his stomach is so sore from the workout it got overnight that every shift pulls at it, makes him wince.

He's alone in the room, save for Sadie, who's sacked out on her mound of pillows in the corner, and it's quiet, but he can hear the soft sound of footsteps downstairs. Jared's still there. It makes it easier for Jensen to peel himself out of the bed when his bladder demands it and stumble into the bathroom. He's dizzy as hell, but he's not nauseous, just congested and sneezy. He's got imprints of the sheets on one side of his face and his hair is a fantastic wreck. He must've slept well, at least.

He goes to the bathroom and washes his hands and face with every intention of going downstairs afterward, but by the time he's done just that he's exhausted again. When he walks back into the bedroom, Jared and Harley are there by Sadie. Jared's cooing at Sadie and she's soaking up the attention, and Harley wanders over to Jensen to butt his head against Jensen's leg.

"Hey, buddy," Jensen murmurs, dropping to sit on the floor, because sitting is so much better than standing. He curls his fingers into Harley's fur and rubs under Harley's collar, and Harley licks at his face and arm until Jared walks over, his bare feet silent on the hardwood. He's got pretty toes, not super hairy. Erik Kripke has toes like a hobbit. Jensen bites his lower lip on a grin and looks up at his friend when Jared drops down to sit next to him.

"How ya feelin'?" he asks.

"Plague-like," Jensen croaks at him, coughing for effect, and then coughing for real because there's phlegm in his throat. Jared makes a face and Harley moves away from the noise, hurrying over to Sadie with his tail between his legs and throwing scared glances over his shoulder at them.

"Aw, Jen," says Jared, bumping their knees together. Jensen wipes at his nose with the back of his hand and feels exhausted. Jared tilts his head. "I've never seen anyone throw up like that, by the way. And I had to take care of my sister once when she had food poisoning." He sounds impressed. Jensen cocks an eyebrow at him.

"Huh."

"Seriously," Jared tells him, like Jensen didn't believe him before. "It was pretty crazy. I mean, I wasn't here for all of it, but you must've broken some kind of record."

"Gee, thanks."

"It was pretty impressive."

"Yeah."

"And completely disgusting."

Jensen snorts softly, closes his eyes. It takes a lot of work to open them again. "Thanks for letting me have your bed," he says thickly. Jared just smiles at him, dimples and softness.

"Of course, man."

"Where'd you sleep?"

"Your room," Jared shrugs. "I changed the sheets and stuff. Don't worry. I didn't roll around in your puke all night."

"Dude," Jensen says, holding a hand up to stop him. "Let's not even talk about it, okay? Who knows when it'll be back."

The bookshelf in the living room is still pulled away from the wall, even though Jared gave up his obsessive drive to find out what the extra light switch does around the time he broke things off with Jensen and wove a metaphor for himself around it. The dogs have taken to sleeping there, though. They're side-by-side, butts and back legs the only things in sight from where Jensen's stretched out on the couch. He's swathed in blankets and the coffee table is covered to the last square inch with medicine, glasses of water, orange juice, Vick's VapoRub, and other sundry pharmacy items. Jensen's feeling better, mostly. Now he's mostly just worn out and it's more the cold that's bothering him than whatever twenty-four hour flu bug he had. He's achy and his head still throbs dully in the background, but he's pretty comfortable down in the living room now.

Jared's pottering around in the kitchen, humming tunelessly as he moves. He's got the world's most horrible voice, but it's still kind of soothing, the constant noise of it. The TV is on too, some station that's playing chick flicks non-stop because it's Valentine's Day. Jensen's kind of been dreading it, not that he's an overly romantic guy about Valentine's Day, but because of this not-thing with Jared and he's been worried it'd make it awkward to see people receiving flowers and stuff at work all day. At least now all they have to deal with is an over-abundance of mushy movies.

The weather still sucks, and they're effectively snowed in, and it's still coming down outside and it's freezing. At least Jensen figures it must be pretty damn cold outside, because whenever Jared comes in after taking the dogs out he's pink-skinned from the wind and his teeth chatter. It's warm in the house though (Jared even turned the heat up for him), and it's even warmer wrapped up in the three over-sized blankets Jensen's burritoed himself into. It's mid-morning. Jensen's managed so far to keep down a couple of pieces of dry toast and some more Sprite. Jared, who was up and had already worked out and taken the dogs and showered by the time Jensen stumbled downstairs, was working on a foul-smelling protein shake when he wandered into the kitchen.

His hands are empty when he returns to the living room, though, and Jensen watches him sink into his recliner and stretch out comfortably, watches his eyes roll when they land on the dogs and his mouth pull into a fond grin.

"They like it back there," he says. His voice sounds like it's been dragged over gravel, but speaking doesn't immediately launch him into a coughing fit, so he counts it as a win. Jared nods, stretching long, arms up over his head and fingers linking and toes pointing, the back of the recliner dipping dangerously low to the floor before he lets his body go slack and it bounces back up again, his head smacking against the cushion.

"I should really move it back," he says with a rueful grin. "I'm just lazy."

"I thought you hadn't given up on finding out what that switch does," Jensen says casually. He's on high alert as he says, logs every reaction Jared has, but Jared just lifts his eyebrow a little, considering. On the TV, Catherine Zeta Jones and Hank Azaria are kissing on a couch in front of Billy Crystal. Jared pushes his hair back out of his face and Jensen's mouth goes a little dry.

"Nah," Jared says finally. "I've tried everything."

"It _could_ do something," Jensen says, and this time there's nothing subtle about it, and the way Jared looks at him, all of that focus intense and completely unreadable in his expression, says he knows exactly what Jensen's talking about. It was pretty well done, Jensen thinks. It's not like Jensen can call him on anything. Jared's breathing a little harder, just a little, like maybe he'd stopped for a second and is catching up now. Jensen sits up, ignores the dizziness that tries to knock him back over and the ache in his muscles. He pulls his legs up to his chest and sits sideways on the cushion closest to Jared's chair, leans his temple into the back of the couch and wets his chapped lips. "I mean, we don't really know. It could turn something on, or like, feed power to something that can be turned on, or something."

He can't believe he's been drawn into this bullshit. Speaking in metaphors. Christ.

Jared takes a slow breath, looks back to the wall and the bookshelf and the hidden light switch behind it, and then slides his eyes back to Jensen. It's a very _I know you know I know_ moment. Jared's face is paler than it was a few seconds ago, and if he still had the fringe he had when they first met he'd be hiding behind his hair, but he meets Jensen's eyes and smiles what might be a normal smile if Jensen didn't know the background of this conversation, didn't know how self-deprecating Jared's turned his big dimpled grin.

"Nah," he says again. He tilts his head, shrugs casually. "I'm pretty sure it's like you guys said. Just an extra light switch."

Jensen frowns hard, but he can't find his voice, can't seem to make himself give up this whole stupid thing and call Jared out on this bullshit, find out what's going _on_ with him, because as much as Jared's been just like he always has this year, something's been _off_. He hasn't been _himself_. And Jensen's not conceited enough to think that he's the center of it. His concern isn't even about not having Jared in the Biblical sense anymore, though he misses that so fucking much it hurts. It's just about Jared. Just Jared.

And fuck if that's not just the story of his life.

 _You're not nothing, jackass,_ he wants to say. And _I'm pretty sure they could make Disney movies about how in love with you I am and you won't even give us a chance. Tell me why. Tell me why._ But instead he says, "Okay," and clears his sore throat and reaches for a cough drop from the bag on the coffee table. He watches Julia Roberts and John Cusack smile at each other on the TV, and doesn't say anything else.

Things settle after that, get back to normal. They laugh and joke, play a few video games and marathon movies. Jared's been really into Indiana Jones since they started playing the Lego game, so all of those make an appearance throughout the day. Jared talks through all four of them. Jensen sleeps a lot, and only gets up to piss. Jared pretty much waits on him hand and foot, which is nice and what he's used to, since Danneel did pretty much the same thing. Jared refills his water and Diet Sprite, brings him toast and crackers and soup to eat, takes his temperature periodically and feeds him Advil and holds him up and pats at his back when Jensen falls into bouts of wet, awful coughing.

As night falls, though, Jensen's fever goes up again and he feels worse. His stomach is still okay but the pressure from the congestion in his chest is painful and uncomfortable, and he's so exhausted even though he's done nothing more strenuous than shuffle from the couch to the downstairs bathroom today.

"Hey," he murmurs around ten, when he can't take it anymore. "I'm gonna hit the sack, man."

Jared's moved onto the floor, like he always does, is stretched out on his back in the middle of the room with the dogs on either side. He looks at Jensen upside down. Another movie is on, but the flash of light in it is making Jensen dizzy, so he doesn't look at it to see what it is.

"Okay," Jared says, all sympathy. He's wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, and it rides up when he arches his back up in a stretch, and Jensen thinks of that night, of Jared under him and around him and arching that way, lips parted and mouth wet and eyes liquid-dark. "Feel better, huh? Take my room again. Bathroom proximity is important."

Jensen blinks, tries to grin but it's mostly a cringe. "And it's all germed up anyway," Jensen tells him.

"That too," Jared agrees, lips pulling into a smile.

Jensen snorts, and then coughs spectacularly into his arm, which for some reason puts this dopey, fond look on Jared's upside down face, and then he waves a hand dismissively at his friend and goes upstairs. He has every intention of taking a shower, because he's a shower-once-a-day kind of guy to a pretty compulsive degree, and he tries, he really does. He gets under the water and everything, but he ends up mostly just getting his arms and chest with the soap, and his hair smells like Jared's stupid expensive shampoo when he's done, like maybe he wasn't able to rinse it all out. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers and steals another pair of sweats out of Jared's dresser drawer, brushes his teeth and stumbles over to the bed. It's giant and fluffy and so comfortable, still smells like Jared when he crawls into the covers and lets his body go completely lax and fluid, and he falls asleep almost immediately.

He dreams about a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic, one he went on with Danneel last year. She's there in front of him, and he can see his parents and brother and sister and sister-in-law milling about over by the landing. Chris, Jeff, Tom, Mike, Jaime, Hillarie, Eric, Kim, Jeremy, Sera, Ben, his grandfather and his grandmother are all there too, looking out over the ocean, laughing together, talking, spread out over the deck.

When Jared walks up, out of nowhere, he's wearing Dean's amulet around his neck and Jensen's suddenly holding the pocket watch Jared gave him for Christmas. It's working, the second hand moving when he opens it. Jared's smiling demurely, has his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. The sunlight is bright on his face. "It's not you, it's me," he says.

"What?" Jensen asks. Jared sounds like he's talking underwater.

"It's not you, it's me."

"I don't understand," Jensen says again, except he thinks he does, he just can't make himself say it, can't let himself speak the truth. "I don't understand, man. What's going on?"

Jared bows his head a little, walks up closer, presses up into Jensen. He's huge and built like a Greek statue. His hair tickles Jensen's cheek. "It's not me," Jared breathes, arms wrapping around him. "It's you."

Jensen's breath catches in his throat and Jared's suddenly gone, away, and everyone else is looking at Jensen, stony or sad, and his mom says, "You learned to make yourself happy alone, Jen. It's time to make someone else happy too."

He wakes up with a jerk to someone touching his arm, and his heart is racing, mouth dry and body trembling from the dream or the fever or both. It's just Jared. Of course it's Jared. The digital clock reads twelve-thirty-two A.M. He's only been asleep a couple of hours.

"Sorry," Jared says, voice low and sleepy. The light from the hallway is casting him in shadows, but his face is clear. "I was just checking on you 'fore I turned in."

"Stay," says Jensen, before Jared even really finishes his own sentence. Jared stops talking, mouth still slightly open. Even freaked out and feverish, Jensen can see that Jared's running scared, running damn-near terrified. He's so obviously torn between what he wants and what he's willing to give himself and Jensen just wants to get that expression off his face.

"Jen..." Jared says, voice a little weak.

"Please," Jensen says. It's probably unfair, but he feels awful and he doesn't want to be alone. Or with anyone else. Just Jared. "C'mon, Jay, just..." Just what? He doesn't know what to say. He sighs exhaustedly and reaches for Jared, finds his arm, and then his hand, links their fingers together crookedly. "Just stay."

Jared looks at him for a long time, like Jensen's something abstract and impossible that he can't figure out, but then he nods and his hand tightens around Jensen's and he says, "Okay. Yeah, dude, sure."

He's already stripped down to boxers, and the front of his hair is damp where he probably just washed his face, and his breath is minty when he crawls into the other side of the bed. They don't touch, but Jensen can feel Jared right there next to him, warm and breathing and close. He turns onto his side to face him. Jared cocks an eyebrow, smiles, though it falls short of his usual. He doesn't look nervous so much as sad, and Jensen cups his cheek, bites at his bottom lip when Jared leans into it like he's starved for touch or something. _You want this_ , Jensen thinks. _You want me._

Jared curls an arm around him and Jensen lets his hand drop between them, knuckles grazing Jared's chest, and goes back to sleep. When he wakes up, Jared's in the shower, his side of the bed still warm. Jensen curls up into it, coughs pathetically, and pines.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

In early March, Jeff comes into town to pick up his role as John Winchester. He's a ghost, mostly, who's been made temporarily corporeal by Cas in order to help Sam and Dean finish a hunt John himself started years ago.

At first, Jensen's really stoked about it, and he and Jared are all but bouncing like kids at the airport. Jared's gone to buy some candy from one of the shops when Jeff walks out from security, wearing a t-shirt and jeans and a grin, and he envelopes Jensen in a hug and Jensen laughs, hugs him back, shakes his hand. Before either of them can say anything, though, Jared is there and all but climbing Jeff like a tree, and Jeff shifts the weight of the duffel on his shoulder to accommodate the sudden weight. He's laughing, head tipped back, his hand low on Jared's back, and Jared's grinning like the sun just came out, and Jensen suddenly wants to punch Jeff in the face.

Jealousy, he decides, sucks.

Also, it's fucking stupid. Jeff is in a relationship, has a kid. He and Jared are just good friends and Jensen knows that. Hell, Jared tackles Jensen almost the exact same way every time they see each other after any kind of absence, sometimes even ones that only last a couple of hours. But there's something ugly and cold in his gut that objects, vehemently, to Jared touching Jeff like he touches Jensen. When Jeff smacks a kiss to Jared's forehead, Jensen's hands curl into fists at his sides and the smile plastered on his face is taking all of his effort to keep up.

It's gonna be a long month.


	7. Chapter 7

Jensen and Jared each have eight t-shirts from the Seattle Aquarium. All sixteen are laid out neatly on Jared's giant bed when Jensen walks in, luggage packed for their annual three-day adventure to the greater Seattle area, sunglasses perched on top of his head. Jared's ready too, at least Jensen thinks so, because Jared's bag is sitting zipped up by the door and he's already pulled a jacket on, but the shirts are still spread out all over the bed. Jensen drops his bag next to Jared's and walks up behind his friend. Jared's got one of those really expensive cameras to bring with them, and he's focusing the zoom on it to encompass the entirety of the bed and all the t-shirts.

"I do this every year," he says, right as Jensen's opening his mouth to ask what the hell he's doing. Jared looks around at him, grinning wide. "You usually take longer."

"Yeah, well, I woke up earlier." It's true enough. He didn't sleep very well, and got up around six-thirty instead of lying in bed thinking too much. Their flight leaves at nine-fifty. It's only a little after seven, now. They've got time. Jensen sips at the coffee he brought upstairs with him and studies the collage of t-shirts.

The tradition started back at the very beginning, when Jensen was twenty-seven and in his first lead role ever and Jared was a twenty-three year old kid that Jensen could bench press. They'd had three days in a row off, as they did every year, in mid-March, and everyone had been stressing about whether or not they'd be renewed for a second season, and Jared had mentioned sea otters, and Jensen had told him that he thought they had an exhibit at the Seattle Aquarium, and thus is began.

So they buy t-shirts every year. Jared has them lined up on the bed chronologically, Jensen's first and Jared's from that same year next to it. Jensen's been pretty much the same size since he was about twenty-two, but Jared went from tall and scrawny to taller and built like The Terminator, so while Jensen's shirts are all the same size, the passage of time is obvious in Jared's, which start out smaller than Jensen's and then build up. Jensen scratches idly at his chin, looks at the collection from the matching Tie-Dyed ones from 2006 to the matching navy blue ones with a picture of the sea otters on them and the phrase _You Otter See Them!_ on the front from last year, and thinks _Christ, I watched this kid grow up._ Thinks that forty years from now, he and Jared will still be taking this trip once a year to visit the sea otters and collect t-shirts.

The shutter-snap of the camera breaks him out of it, and he rolls his eyes when Jared studies the picture he took carefully before nodding, like this is really serious shit, and saving turning the camera off again. He puts it back in its case and zips it up, and then grins so wide at Jensen it's kind of blinding and throws an arm around his shoulders.

"So I think we should check out some of the hole in the wall restaurants this time," he says, all but vibrating with excitement. "I mean, we've hit all the must-sees and shit, and they're _good_ , but we need something that's just ours, y'know? That no one else but the locals know about. Even if it's totally disgusting."

Jensen tilts his head back to feel his hair scratch against the sleeve of Jared's jacket. They're still standing in front of the bed. Jensen hooks his arm around Jared's waist, curls his hand around the sharp wing of Jared's hipbone, feels Jared lean in against him just a little, totally comfortable.

"We can do that. I want to hit San Juan this time, dude. We haven't been there in like, four years. And I'll need schnitzel."

"You're such tourists," Jeff says from behind them, and Jensen figures it might be kind of funny, the way his and Jared's heads turn at exactly the same time to look at him. Jeff is leaning in the doorway, a mug of coffee in hand and still in a t-shirt and sweats.

"That's what it's all about!" Jared tells him. "We hit the tourist spots. It's our _thing_."

Jeff shakes his head, a Seattle native saddened by his friends' ignorance. Jensen still has his arm around Jared, so it's easier to force himself to be polite and say, "You know you're welcome to come with us, right?"

Jared looks at him, like he might protest, which makes Jensen feel kind of possessive and Alpha-male, but Jeff isn't really paying attention, eyes squeezed shut as he yawns hugely.

"No way, kids. Far be it from me to intrude on your romantic get away."

"Besides, he's gotta watch the babies," Jared adds.

"Yeah," Jeff says, and on cue Harley trots past him and into the room to dig around in the pile of pillows in the corner. "And sea otters don't really do it for me like they do some people. What can I say? I'm a heartless old man."

He's just watching them, and sipping his coffee, and Jensen feels at once exposed and content with Jared like this. He reluctantly drops his arm, though, so they can actually move, and Jared pulls his own back too. It's colder without all that warm wrapped around him. Jared disappears into the bathroom to grab his toiletry bag, and Jeff says, "So you guys do this every year?"

"It's tradition."

"That's sweet," Jeff says, grinning.

"I guess," Jensen laughs. He's been less comfortable around Jeff in the last four days than he's ever been before. John's in another two episodes, so he's going to be around for a while. Hillarie and Gus are coming up in a couple of weeks though, and it'll be just he and Jared in the house again. Jensen's looking forward to that more than he should be considering how good a friend Jeff really is. "Hey, thanks for watching the house, man. And the dogs. We owe you."

"Shit, Ackles," Jeff says, shaking his head. Jensen expects him to elaborate, but Jared comes back then, small leather shaving bag in hand.

He stuffs it into his duffel bag, pulls on a skull cap, and thumbs the side of his nose. "Let's get it on."

Jeff snorts and pushes off the door frame to lead the way downstairs. Jensen fights down the almost overwhelming urge to push Jared down onto the bed over all their aquarium t-shirts and make him understand all the things that Jensen sees in him. Instead of giving in, he watches Jared shoulder his bag, and then picks up his own.

"I'm like, really fuckin' excited about this," Jared murmurs, quiet, like it's a secret.

Jensen feels his lips pull up at the corners. "Me too."

And Jared smiles, deep dimples and warmth and familiarity.

Saying goodbye to the dogs is a fifteen-minute feat. Jared has guilt issues when it comes to his dogs, but he's better about it this time because at least they get to stay home instead of being boarded. By the time they finally get outside, Jeff waving them off and grumbling at them to get the fuck out so he can go back to bed, Jensen's got dog slobber all over his cheek and Jared is blowing kisses through the windows on either side of the front door, where Harley and Sadie are each pushing their noses into the glass.

"It's two and a half days," Jensen reminds him. Clif is driving them to the airport, and he and the big SUV are waiting at the end of the driveway. Jared finally turns around to watch where he's walking before he falls over his own feet and lands facedown in the snow.

"We'll have to buy them presents."

"Yeah, probably," Jensen says. Harley is usually so happy to see them that he forgets they were ever gone in the first place, but Sadie holds grudges for a while and requires wooing to win back her good graces. "Misha said there's like, one of those gourmet dog food stores there."

"If it isn't on the tourist map I'm not interested," Jared says at once. Jensen pretty much shoves him into the car as soon as the door's open and climbs in after him, their bags bulky and in the way until they toss them over the seat and into the back.

"Maybe it _is_ on the tourist map. Did you ever think of that?"

Jared grins dopily and flicks Jensen in the center of the forehead. The sun is just starting to really come up, so Jensen pushes his sunglasses down off his head and onto his nose and closes his eyes. Clif and Jared are talking about hockey or something. Playoffs have started. Jensen hasn't really been keeping up, so he doesn't listen very hard, just lets the drone of their voices lull him into a comfortable doze, and it feels like only a few seconds later when Jared is shaking him awake.

Getting through security is a pain in that ass, as per usual, but they make it to the gate and onto the plane with plenty of time to spare. It's not a very crowded flight. They've got seats next to each other in first class. As soon as they're settled in, Jared twists in his seat to face Jensen. The sunlight coming through the window halos him in a completely cheesy way, like when they used to shine light on Misha at every possible moment on set with whatever light source they could find, be it Sam and Dean's flashlights or the fake sunlight lamp that may have caused permanent skin damage and recited him off-the-cuff poetry about his glowing grace. Jared looks like he's in the middle of a stained glass window. Jensen pretends to cough to cover his laugh.

"All right, so we hit the hotel first, drop our shit off, and then go straight the aquarium for sea otters. I may or may not have brought a ball. That I may or may not 'drop'"—he pauses here to emphasize with quotey fingers—"into the pool with them."

"You don't even remember their names."

"We don't need to know each other's names. We have a spiritual bond, the six of us."

"We didn't even get to see the baby last year," Jensen reminds him.

"It doesn't matter. We know her _mother_. Anyway, we go see the sea otters, and then—"

"And then we go on a date, "Jensen says, very sudden, and he's a little shocked himself at the way it just comes out of his mouth. Jared stares at him, blinks once. He's got one of his hands held out in front of him, and his stupid Seattle Tourist map that he printed off the internet.

"A date," Jared repeats, and he already sounds defeated and guilty and worried, but Jensen punches him in the shoulder and looks at him sternly.

"Shut up. Yes. A date. Just one, man. What happens in Seattle stays in Seattle. I promise."

"I'm," is all Jared says, and Jensen knows he's got him, knows Jared better than he knows himself, better than he's ever known anyone. Jared rubs idly at the shoulder Jensen's barely hit and wets his lips and nods, slow, like he actually had to think about it. "Okay."

Jensen grins hugely, heart beating strong and steady, and this might kill him a little later, but for now, it's golden. He's got a weekend.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Two o'clock in the afternoon find Jared and Jensen in the back of the small gathered in front of the exhibit at the aquarium, watching two of the handlers feed all four sea otters, who are very content with their hand-given clams. They've both donned their new Star Wars themed "The Otters Strike Back" t-shirts, and since they're easily the tallest people among the class of elementary school kids and their teachers, Jared's not having any trouble snapping pictures.   

When the guide that's with the school group moves on, they're left momentarily alone, so they approach the tank.   

"That must be the baby," Jared says, pointing at the smallest one. She's a little over a year old now, and she's dark and very fuzzy. Jensen watches her smash a clam against a rock until the shell breaks open and then spin in circles in the water to clean it off before she eats it.   

When she notices them, she immediately latches onto one of the rubber balls floating in the water and wades toward them, playing with it. When Jared immediately goes all soft and doe-eyed at the sight, Jensen bites his lip on a laugh and crouches down to see her better through the glass. It makes him think simultaneously of Nermal from Garfield and of Jared on set and at conventions and any other events.  

 "She's kind of a ham," he says mildly.   "Who's a precious girl?" Jared coos obnoxiously at the otter in a baby voice, palm flat on the glass. "Who's daddy's precious girl?"   

She makes a weird chirpy sound and Jensen rolls his eyes and stands back up. One of the handlers on the other side of the exhibit, up on the rocky bank, tosses another few clams into the water near them, and the other three swoop in closer too. She's probably around Jensen's age, with her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and a diamond ring the size of Jensen's watch face on her finger.   

"Aren't you two a little old for Taylor Elementary's Spring field trip?" she asks them.  

"We're old hands," Jared answers, grinning broadly. He digs around in the bag slung over his back for the bright orange ball he brought. He shows it to the aquarium worker, who nods, and then he tosses it into the pool. His face falls when none of them go after it, far too interested in getting their clams open and devoured. Jensen pats him on the shoulder consolingly. 

"What d'you mean old hands?" the woman asks, walking a little closer. She's picking up now, digging scraps of kelp out of the water and removing the empty shells with a net. "You guys come here a lot?"   

"We live up in Vancouver," Jensen answers. "We come here once a year around this time."   

She looks around at them and smiles a pretty smile, eyes glancing between them. "That's really sweet," she says. The implication is obvious. She doesn't recognize them, and she thinks they're together. In a Biblical sense. And Jensen understands, because he hadn't even noticed how close together he and Jared are standing, or that Jared's got his fingers curled into the back of Jensen's shirt to keep himself steady while he tries to zip his bag back up without taking it off his shoulder. He's not sure what to say. This is pretty normal behavior for them. Luckily, when Jared finally gets his bag closed he looks back over at the woman with another winning smile.   

"We're big fans. What's the baby's name?"   

From there, the conversation turns to the otters, and the handler—Marie—who is very enthusiastic, even gets a couple of tricks out of the only male and the eldest female. But Jared doesn't take his hand off of Jensen's back over the next half hour that the three of them talk, or even when another group of school kids comes up. He doesn't take it away until they're walking away from the exhibit a few minutes later.   

They leave the aquarium around four and walk around in some of the little local shops for a couple of hours, still in their matching Aquarium t-shirts. They get recognized and take pictures a couple of times, but it isn't overwhelming and both the girls who noticed them are really sweet, so it's no hardship. For the most part, though, they're left alone. He picks up a couple of vinyls in a run down record store they try to hit every time they're in town, and he talks Jared into going off the tourist map to find the specialty pet bakery where they stock up on treats for the dogs. After that, they take a cab to the mall. Jared buys a new pair of sunglasses and, to Jensen's bewilderment, a dark blue button up shirt.

"What's that for?" Jensen asks him at the counter in Nordstrom. "Didn't you bring enough clothes?"  

"Well, you're taking me out tonight, aren't you?" He smiles at the girl behind the counter, and Jensen's left to deal with the hopeful flip in his stomach in silence until Jared's finished paying. "I didn't bring any date clothes."   

"You don't have to dress up for me, man," Jensen says, even if he can't stop the stupid grin that he knows is on his face.   "It's a _date_ ," Jared says, like Jensen's being purposefully dense.   When they get outside, while they're waiting for the cab to show up, Jensen bumps Jared's arm with his own to get his attention. Jared's wearing his new sunglasses, the tag still hanging off them. He looks like an idiot and Jensen wants to climb him like a tree.  

 "Hey, Jay, you don't to have to...We don't have to do this if you don't want to."   

"No, I want to," Jared says immediately, pushing the shades up on top of his head so Jensen can see his eyes. He looks earnest and determined and he's smiling. It must be a good sign. "I really want to."  

 "Yeah?"

 "Yeah. Just. This can't—"   

"I know," Jensen cuts him off, doesn't want to hear it. "What happens in Washington stays in Washington, okay?"   

Jared looks unfairly relieved. It's unfair how much Jensen still wants him. "But this weekend you're mine."   

Jared's eyes go kind of dark and his tongue slips out, touches his bottom lip. "All weekend?"  

 "All weekend."  

 Jared shrugs, lips pulling into a slow smile. "Yeah. I can do that."   

It's weak of Jensen to do this. He knows it's gonna hurt like hell when they get back home, but he can't let the opportunity pass him by. He's missed having Jared on all levels too fucking much.  

 "Okay then."   

They always get the same room in the Four Seasons in Seattle, a two bedroom suite with a common area and kitchenette and mini bar and hot tub. The first time they came here it was just the only room the hotel had left, but Jared has since refused to go Jacuzzi-less, and it's not like Jensen can deny that it's kind of nice, so now they dish out the extra cash for it once a year.   

They'd dropped their stuff off at the front desk to be put in their room and collected the key cards before they'd booked it to the aquarium, so they bypass the lobby entirely and go in through a side door and take the elevator to the seventh floor. It's not awkward, but neither of them are really talking, and Jensen's kind of nervous. It's not like he has a whole lot planned, and none of it is anything they haven't done together a hundred times before, but the label on it is wracking him with anticipation and nervous energy. He's all but bounding on the balls of his feet.   

"So," Jared starts as soon as they get inside the suite.  

 "So," Jensen echoes.   

They stare at each other for a second, and then Jared grins and Jensen shakes his head, smiling.   

"Fuck, this is crazy. I'll meet you out here in an hour?"  

 "Yeah," Jensen says, already turning and heading for his bedroom on the left "Don't take too long primping your fucking hair, man."   

"Fuck you," Jared says lazily, and saunters into his own room, shutting the door with a quiet click.  

 Jensen has a shower routine. Hair first, so that he can wash the shampoo off his skin when he rubs himself down. He's admittedly a bit indulgent when it comes to bath supplies. He uses body wash— _manly_ body wash—that costs the same as Jared's stupid-expensive shampoo, but it smells awesome and it makes him happy, and you can't put a price on happiness. He uses a spongy thing for that, rubs himself clean, doesn't miss a square inch of skin, and then rinses off for exactly forty-five seconds in almost-scalding water.  

 Post-shower activities include shaving his face and neck, brushing his teeth, and dressing obsessively, because he brought something relatively nice-ish to wear but he still feels like a complete tool like he's a teenager going to prom. In the end, he's got barely five minutes to spare when he leaves, clad in jeans and a dark green, long-sleeved sweater and his hair gelled into an artful muss.   

Jared's waiting by the couch, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans and hair curling _just so_ around his face. The shirt he bought looks really good on him. Jensen has never felt more gay in his entire life. And then Jared whistles, loudly, and Jensen shoves him in front of himself and toward the door.   

"Shut up."   

"I'm giving you a complement!"   

"You're being an ass."   

"You dressed up for me," Jared beams over his shoulder, stumbling out the door when Jensen pushes him through it. He takes a second to grab both their wallets from the table right inside before he steps through too, and if he watches a little too close as Jared slips his into his back pocket, well, it's allowed for the next two days.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

When Jensen was picturing this in his head for the duration of the plane ride, he was thinking of being pretty cheeky. If Jared's going to make Jensen work for it, then Jensen'll do it right, damn it. He pictured pulling Jared's chair out for him at the restaurant and opening doors for him, kissing his hand and probably his cheek and walking him to his bedroom door at the end of the night, just for the sake of being an ass and making Jared smile.

Of course, in reality they're two mildly well-known actors.

Dating at all is pretty difficult under those circumstances. He and Danneel had never been able to go anywhere without pictures being taken or autographs being given, and even when he was dating Shauna for those few weeks he spent a lot of time apologizing profusely for all the pictures of the two of them walking together or eating together or sitting together that got plastered all over the internet. And really, it’s not like Jensen can't handle it. He knew what he was signing up for when he moved to L.A. and part of him craves it, the part that left home to become a famous actor likes the attention. But he's only got a couple days with Jared like this, a couple days where Jared is _his_ in every way, shape and form, and this first trial run date is supposed to be like, special.

They sign a few autographs and take a few pictures with fans who recognize them immediately upon exiting the cab on a long, cobbly road of restaurants and bars and locally owned stores. The last group is a family, a mom and two daughters, one probably in her late teens and the other one little, maybe five. They're really nice, even though the teenager talks a mile a minute like she won't be able to get everything that she wants to say out if she doesn't say it fast enough, and when Jared, laughing, hands her back the notebook he just signed for her, she holds it to her chest and beams. She has a pretty smile.

"This is so awesome, thank you!" she says.

"Anytime," Jensen answers, kneeling down now to sign the little pieces of paper the mom dug out of her purse so the little girl could get something signed too. Jensen's pretty sure she has no idea who they are, but if big sister thinks they're cool then she's all for it. She's pretty adorable, blonde pigtails and a coat thick enough to keep her arms kind of raised. Jensen scrawls his name across the back of the receipt he was handed with an apologetic smile and hands it to the little girl. "There ya go, sweetie."

"So what are you guys doing down here?" the teenager, Hannah, asks curiously.

"Hannah, let them be," he mom says, shaking her head and smiling. She's got fiery red hair, and so does Hannah, but that's about all they have in common.

"It's okay," Jared says, smiling broadly. "Jensen here is taking me out for a night on the town."

Jensen, wincing when his knees pop as he stands up again, rolls his eyes.

"That sounds fun!" the mom grins. "Anything special planned?"

"You'll have to ask him. He's my gentleman caller for the evening."

Jensen sighs as Jared slings an arm around his shoulder and Hannah is grinning so wide her face must be hurting. Her mother picks the little girl up and pulls at Hannah's arm until she turns around after a brief wave. The little girl watches them over her mom's shoulder as they walk away, and Jensen hears her say, "Mommy, why are they hugging? They're _boys_."

When they've walked away, Jared looks at him and says, "Yeah, anything special planned? Where are you taking me?"

Jensen looks up at him and grins mysteriously. "You'll see."

"Fuck you, where is it?"

"So goddamn impatient, man, Jesus."

Jared just looks at him expectantly and Jensen leads him down the street. "Two blocks this way. I found us a hole in the wall."

And it really is. It's some place called Jives, with a lurid green and purple neon sign above the stone entryway and a chalkboard outside proclaiming the best steak and burritos in five counties. Jared looks up at it in awe, like he just won the lottery or something. Jensen feels pretty awesome.

"This is—"

"I know, man, right?"

"—everything I ever could have dreamed," Jared finishes, tearing his eyes away from the bright orange marguerite poster on the window next to the door. "Do you think the food is bad?"

"One can only hope," Jensen says solemnly. He's not entirely sure why Jared's checkbox list of local dives he wants to make his own includes food that's mediocre at best, but he learned a long time ago to pick his battles. The answer, no matter how much sense he'll try to make out of whatever it happens to be at the time, is that Jared is fucking crazy.

When he opens the door and clears his throat pointedly, Jared holds a hand to his heart and flutters his eyelashes and walks in with a deep Texas "Why thank you." His smile is kind of shy and small and surprised, though, and it makes Jensen's stomach knot up a little. He wants to say something, do something, ask Jared if this is okay and maybe shove him down and crawl inside him, but he doesn't get the chance to do any of it.

It looks like Satan sneezed all over the restaurant. Everything is kind of black and the art on the walls, if it can be called art, is mostly of campy vaguely human-shaped things in cowboy hats. The tile shifts under Jensen's feet enough that he almost loses his balance and the lighting is so bad Jensen's head throbs whenever he tries to focus.

The guy who sashays over to them in a shiny black button up and black pants in skinny as a rail, but taller than even Jared. He's got dark hair and thin lips and he looks younger than Jensen ever remembers being, but his voice is deceptively deep.

"Welcome to Jive," he says, smiling wide. "Two?"

They're led to a big booth in the back corner right next to the bathrooms. Jensen, very gentlemanly, waits for Jared to slide into one side before he takes the seat across from him. The booth is small, and they've both got long legs, so their knees graze. It smells like bad plumbing, Lysol, steak, and public toilet. Someone's carved 'spank me, daddy' into the center of the wooden table and Jensen's not entirely sure that he wants to know what the stain on the wall behind the drinks menu is.

"I want to get married here," Jared says as soon as they sit down. Jensen slides into the booth across from him. It took him four hours on the internet to find this damn place. He'd run it by Jeff, too, who told him he'd heard of it but never had any desire to go there, and that had pretty much cemented it. Jared's love of tacky things is eternal.

"Slow down there, cowboy, this is our first date."

"Well, obviously not yet," Jared says, sniffing. He picks up the menu and points at the giant Piccaso-esque picture of a bull on the cover. "But look at this? This is classy."

"You would know."

"I love it," Jared says at once, looking fondly at the watercolor painting of a naked woman with an elephant trunk for a nose nailed to the wall above them, nose wrinkled and mouth grinning.

"You would."

"So!" Jared claps his hands together once. "I think you should give me the full Jensen Ackles first date experience."

"Oh yeah?" Jensen cocks an eyebrow, spreads his knees and feels the outsides of Jared's touch the insides of his.

"Yup. What would you usually do? This is a _date_ , not just us getting dinner. Hit me with it. C'mon."

Jared's eyes are all lit up, competitive little shit. Jensen pouts his lips out and makes his eyes heavy-lidded, tilts his head to the side and starts to run his ankle up and down Jared's leg.

"Really," Jared laughs, pushing his hair back out of his face. It falls back immediately. Jensen almost reaches out to fix it, tuck it back behind Jared's ear or something, but stops himself, too aware of the eyes on them, of whoever's whistling and laughing drunkenly in the bathroom behind them. Of the fact that in a couple of days this'll be over and he can't let himself get used to casual affection like that.

They're interrupted by a waitress, who brings them two glasses of water that Jensen finds questionable and some appetizer bread that smells amazing and looks like charcoal. They stare at each other, and then Jensen prods at the lump with his fork, winces when it sinks in past the crust with an overly-loud crunch and then hits something gooey that he's pretty sure isn't supposed to be there.

"I'm not eating that," he says. When Jared opens his mouth and reach out to grab the bread, Jensen smacks his hand with the back of his fork. "You're not eating that either."

"So really," Jared starts, obediently taking his hand back and eying Jensen. "Like, what do you do on a first date, really? Do you pull out the pick-up lines? Feel them up under the table?"

"Dazzle them with my wit?"

"Exactly."

Jensen shakes his head, grinning and feelingly weirdly embarrassed and put on the spot. Jared nudges their knees together again and Jensen laughs awkwardly. "I dunno, man. I usually ask questions I guess."

"Questions? Like what?"

"Shit, I dunno. Like, getting-to-know-you stuff. What do you do, where did you grow up, what's your family like, what's your favorite color, do you have any pets, what is your greatest ambition...et cetera et cetera."

"Deep shit," Jared nods, face serious but it looks like he's fighting a smile.

"Just stuff I'm curious about. But I already know that you're an actor, and you grew up in San Antonio with a brother and a sister and oak trees, and your family is awesome and your favorite color is all of them and yes, you have pets, they're needy bastards."

"And my greatest ambition?" Jared asks, challenging. Jensen just cuts a look at him, _bitch please_.

"To genetically engineer one of those tiny giraffes from the Direct TV commercial."

Jared throws his head back and laughs, pumps his fist into the air triumphantly and Jensen feels whatever nervous energy and awkwardness was weighing him down lift off his shoulders, and he thinks he's starting to realize that maybe he and Jared have been dating a lot longer than either of them ever realized.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

They don't even make it through the door of their suite after an hour and a half of poking at their inedible dinner before they're all over each other. Jared's hard and warm against Jensen, is sliding his tongue along the tops of Jensen's teeth and the roof of his mouth, has both his hands on Jensen's ass and Jensen's got one hand shoved up under Jared's shirt, palm to the skin of his back.

He's got two days for this, two days to get everything he can from this, and right now he wants inside Jared so bad it's palpable. He wants Jared under him and around him and he's played catcher every time they've done this and he wants to know what Jared feels like the other way around before he can't have him at all anymore.

He tries to ignore how pathetic it all sounds.

"Jay," he murmurs against Jared's mouth, slides his hand down Jared's leg, over his ass to grip the back of his thigh. Jared nudges his nose against Jensen's cheek, mouths down over the hinge of his jaw. Jensen's eyes roll back and close. "'m gonna fuck you."

Jared's breath hitches, his hands sliding up Jensen's sides, taking the shirt with them. Jensen detaches himself long enough to tug it off and Jared thumbs at one of his bared nipples, swallows Jensen's low growl.

"Right here?" he asks, smirking a little, eying the couch and the floor, but Jensen shakes his head and tugs on Jared's hair, catches his mouth again, kisses him until they're both breathing too hard to keep it up.

"Bed."

It takes a long time to get there, a trail of clothes leading into the closest bedroom—Jensen's. They're both naked by the time Jared's knees hit the bed and he falls back. Jensen takes a second to dig through his bag for a condom and a tube of lube and toss them onto the bed before he crawls up too, pins Jared down lightly with his hand around both of Jared's wrists above his head. Jared's so fucking long, miles of tan skin, flushing down his chest, legs spread so Jensen fits on his knees between them. His eyes are black-blown with want, his mouth wet and pink. Fuck, he wants him. Can't believe he's doing this to himself.

Jared groans when Jensen's mouth touches his chest, tongue whirling over one his nipples. He lets Jared's wrists go so he can touch more, cover more ground, thumbs over the dip of Jared's navel as he trails his mouth down the center of Jared's body.

"Jen, you don't have to—"

"Wanna," Jensen says, mouth right above Jared's cock, coarse curls brushing against his chin. He laves his tongue over the skin low on Jared's abdomen, fingers rubbing gently at Jared's inner thigh until Jared parts his legs a little more, opens right up for him. His cock is fat, hard and red and long, precome making the tip shine. Jensen curls his fingers over Jared's hip, feels long fingers thread into his hair as he breathes over the base, feels them clench and pull when he tongues the pearl of precome from the slit.

"God, Jensen," Jared gasps, words dissolving into another long, low moan when Jensen envelopes the head of his cock in his mouth. Jared's heavy and bittersweet on his tongue and the way he tenses up, the way his hips move under Jensen's hand like he's trying to keep still eggs Jensen on. He tongues at the vein on the underside, slides his mouth down further. Jared's rambling like he can't help himself, telling Jensen he's good and how hot it is and Jensen swallows him down as far as he can without gagging before he opens his eyes and looks up. Jared's eyes are closed, one hand tangled in his own hair, the other still petting at the back of Jensen's head. His abs are clenching with the tiny, circular movement of his hips. Jensen swallows around him, shivers when Jared cries out.

"Jensen," he's panting, "Jensen, man, fuck, fuck, just—I can't—"

Jensen pulls his mouth back up and off, laps over the tip again, listens to Jared all but beg for it before he slides his lips back down. His mouth is stretched wide, his throat aching with it. He cups Jared's heavy balls in one hand and squeezes carefully, would smile at the sound Jared makes if he had the room to. He kind of gets lost in it, in the taste of Jared and the heady sense of driving him slowly insane with his mouth and hands and body, guiding Jared's hips to roll up and back down, fuck his mouth slow and careful until Jared's writhing, biting his lip to keep from crying out with the pleasure of it.

He can feel when Jared jerks a little, his balls tightening up, and he pulls his mouth back so that just the head is still in and watches Jared's back arch as orgasm sears through him. It's about the hottest thing he's ever seen, Jared coming apart, and he comes hot into Jensen's mouth, his hand still clenched tight in Jensen's hair. Jensen swallows everything he can, pulls back eventually and wraps his hand around the base of Jared's cock and jerks him in the sharp, quick strokes Jared favors. Jared's mouth is already open when he climbs back up his body and he slides his tongue inside.

Jared finally drops back to the bed completely lax, his grip easing in Jensen's hair until he's just stroking his fingers through it. He kisses back lazily, soft suction on Jensen's tongue, arms coming up to wrap around him, tasting himself in Jensen's mouth.

"You're pretty good at that," he says when the kiss breaks, words slurred. Jensen snorts softly, hand still on Jared's dick, covered in come, slick with it. He slides it down further, beneath his balls to circle a finger around the rim of Jared's hole. Jared shudders, legs widening, arm tightening around Jensen's waist.

"You done this before?" Jensen asks.

Jared tilts his head back a little, swallows hard, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. "Yeah. Not in a while."

"S'okay," Jensen assures him, echoes of the conversation they had their first time. "I'll go easy. Won't hurt you."

Jared cups his cheek, looks up at him through long eyelashes, and drags the pad of his thumb over Jensen's bottom lip. Says, "I know."

This is gonna hurt, Jensen knows, in an existential sense. Having Jared like this and then losing it. It kind of hurts to look at him. He kisses him instead, tastes Jared's moan when he pushes a finger inside him. Jared's hips lift up immediately and Jensen hooks his finger, zeroes in on Jared's prostate, grins when Jared bites his bottom lip hard and then soothes the sting with his tongue.

Jared's tight and hot inside, hole clenching around Jensen's finger like a vice, only come slicking the way. He pulls it out long enough to grab the lube and coat his fingers in it, Jared watching with his legs spread obscenely wide, sheened in sweat, hand around Jensen's arm squeezing carefully.

"Okay?" Jensen asks.

Jared sticks his tongue out, rolls his eyes. "Not a delicate flower."

So Jensen kisses him in the center of the chest and pushes two fingers inside him again, panting against Jared's skin. His cock is so hard he could drill for precious metals, and he can feel Jared's swelling again, smearing precome on his arm as he corkscrews his fingers into him again and again. Jared's eyes are closed and his body held taut, one heel digging into the bed so he has the leverage to shove down onto Jensen's hand. It's hot as hell and Jensen's not even inside him yet.

"Now, Jen, c'mon," Jared pants, and Jensen looks up to watch him wet his lips. "Thought you were gonna fuck me."

Jensen adds another finger, smirks smugly when Jared swears and arches his back again. But he doesn't really have the ability to tease much. "Gonna fuck you, sweetheart."

" _Sweetheart,_ " Jared coos.

Jensen can't help the smile, pulls his fingers out and reaches for the condom. Jared's watching every move, his eyes on Jensen's face and then his hands and then his cock as Jensen rolls the latex down. His hand feels fucking fantastic, but that's not how he wants to come. His cock hurts, curving up painfully toward his stomach, and Jared's wetting his lips again like he wants to taste it, spreading his legs again like he wants it inside him.

Jensen grabs the lube, slicks himself up with a shaky hand and repositions himself between Jared's thighs. Jared reaches for him, touches his chest, curls his hand around Jensen's sides so his fingers slot into the gaps between Jensen's ribs. Jensen stretches out over him, holds himself up on one arm, tangles his fingers in Jared's hair. He lines himself up carefully, takes a few slow rolls of his hips just to feel Jared's hole flutter against his dick. He wishes there was no condom between them, that this was something exclusive and real.

Jared lifts his head to kiss him and Jensen carefully pushes inside. Jared inhales sharply and hooks a long leg around Jensen's waist. Jensen pulls back so he can see him, watch his face as he sinks in. He can't say anything, throat caught, every muscle in his body working toward not coming right this fucking second. Jared's so fucking tight inside, so fucking _hot_ , and it's slick through lube and come and he's opening up for him. Jensen moves in slow thrusts, in and in and in until he's buried in deep, balls pressed snug to Jared's ass and Jared is gasping under him, eyelashes ashy smudges on his cheeks, brow furrowed with pleasure, with the burn. Jensen stops, shaking with the effort to keep still. He smooths his thumb over Jared's forehead, dips his head to kiss him when Jared takes a shuddery breath and relaxes.

They don't say a damn thing beyond each other's names after that. Jared wraps both legs around Jensen's waist, heels digging into the back of Jensen's thighs. He arches his back and he kisses Jensen so hard, so deep and intense like it'll kill him if he doesn't. Jensen softens it, pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in. It's quiet and hot and unfair.

It's just really, really fucking unfair.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

They don't leave the hotel room again. They don't even really get dressed again. It's more sex than Jensen's ever had in his life. No surface, vertical or horizontal, goes un-christened. They talk and they laugh and they fuck around. They touch each other and watch movies together on the couch with their arms touching. They make out and grind against each other and shower together and sleep together and Jensen's heart is being ripped out and crushed and pureed with every second he spends like this.

The last night before they're supposed to head back to work, they're sprawled out on the bed in Jared's room. Jensen's freshly-fucked and lying on his stomach, his chin resting on Jared's chest. Jared's rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back, eyes closed, humming tunelessly.

"This was a bad idea," Jensen murmurs.

Jared's touch falters, but he doesn't stop, just squeezes Jensen's shoulder blade gently. "I'm sorry."

"My own fault."

Jared doesn't say anything, and Jensen doesn't want him to. They fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and Jensen fucks Jared in the shower the next morning. One last time.

After they're dressed and packed, Jared drops down on the couch next to Jensen and rests his elbows on his knees, folds his hands. "Jen, man. You...Are we okay?"

Jensen tries to grin, flicks Jared on the temple. "We're good."

It's not a lie. At least that's something.


	8. Chapter 8

They're filming the last episode of the season. Jensen's strapped into a harness that's chafing his thighs and a little too tight around the family jewels. He's been in this thing most of the day, so Dean can get slammed into walls over and over again. It's just after seven in the evening, and Jared and Jeff are done for the day. Jensen doesn't have much longer, just this one final take of Dean cracking his skull open on a stone wall and going down like his strings have been cut, so the other two are waiting around for him. They're standing out of the way, but still within eyesight. Jared's grinning at something that Jeff is saying, and they both look at Jensen and there's definite snickering going on. So Jensen presents them both his middle fingers with as much dignity as he can muster while trussed up like this. Jared blows him a kiss and Jeff's head tilts back as he laughs.

"All right, Ackles," Jeremy says, child-like glee in his eyes. He's done really phenomenal this season, and there's some Kripke-esque excitement about him that wasn't there before he was the show-runner. Jensen's learned to be a little afraid of that look. "Let's do this quick, huh?"

"I hear I'm pretty good at getting tossed around," Jensen says, voice dry.

"Aw, hell," Todd mutters, and one of the other members of the crew who's trying to get Jensen situated with the bungee cords snorts. Todd swears softly. "It's all twisted back here. Hold on. Lift your leg, man," he tells Jensen. "Like Captain Morgan."

Todd's got one of those voices that's not loud but that carries, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth Jared's head is whipping around to look at Jensen, his eyes all lit up. Jensen shakes his head, but puts on his best game face and poses Jeff whistles and there are a few good-natured cat calls tossed his way, but, as has been the case for years now, Jensen's pretty much got eyes only for Jared, and he can't help the smile that curves his lips at Jared's unrestrained laughter.

"Yes!" Todd says, like he just won an Olympic gold metal or something. "Twisty bastards. Now who's laughin', huh?"

"You've got this _thing_ with the bungee cords, man," Jensen tells him, like he's worried about him.

"Fuck off," says Todd. "They cheek me."

Jensen chuckles and squirms around in the harness, does a couple of little jumps to test out the cords when he's directed to and then lets Todd lead him in a full circle, stretching his legs this way and that, letting the pulley and cords take his weight to test them out.

"I think we're good," Jake—the other guy strapping Jensen in—says. "Nice moves, kid."

Jensen grins dashingly and moonwalks to his mark, soaking in the laughter and applause that comes his way and turning around to see if Jared's watching, and just stops, nearly falls over. Jared's on the phone, but the look on his face is one that Jensen's never seen there before. Not ever. Not even after Sandy. Even with the over-bright lights Jared's face is blanched of all color, and his eyes are huge and unseeing. He's got his fingers on his mouth, pressed tight against the thin line his lips are pressed into.

Jeff is right there with him, his hand on Jared's shoulder, and when Jared's knees kind of buckle Jeff takes some of his weight and Jensen's breath leaves him in a rush, his chest tight and his heart pounding. Jared's talking into the phone now, seemingly unaware of Jeff there next to him, and no one else around him even seems to notice. They're standing too far back. All eyes are on getting this scene done.

Jensen's about to demand to be let out, to be cut down, but Jared hangs up the phone then, still looking shell-shocked. Jeff gets an arm around his shoulders and starts to lead him away, toward the door of the studio, and unadulterated jealousy surges hard through every nerve ending in Jensen's body.

"Get me outta this," he finally says.

"What?" Todd laughs. "Dude, we just got you—"

"I'm not fucking kidding," Jensen says, talking through clenched teeth. His head is spinning. What happened? What the fuck happened to make Jared look like that? He looked just like Jensen felt when he got the call that his grandfather died four years ago. He has to get to him. He has to see him. Nothing should make Jared look like that. Not ever. God, what _happened_? "Get me out of here, now. I need a break." When no one does anything, just stands there looking at him, he growls, " _Now._ "

Jeremy is reluctant, but it's not like Jensen's ever done this before. He's not in the habit of making demands when he's on set and on the clock, and Jeremy's known him long enough—hell, everyone here has known him long enough—to know he's not fucking around.

The harness comes off a lot easier than it went on, but it still takes almost fifteen precious minutes, and Jensen's taking off at a jog in Dean's heavy boots. He's out the door and slamming headfirst into Jeff right outside in a matter of seconds. Jeff is like a brick wall, and Jensen'd probably have fallen if Jeff didn't catch him.

"Where is he?" Jensen demands before Jeff can say anything. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"He's on his way home," Jeff answers. He's still gripping Jensen by the arms. Jensen wants to hit him, or something, can't believe he's out here asking fucking Jeff Morgan where Jared is. He feels like his best friend's been stolen from him. It should've been _him_ with Jared when he got that call, whatever it was.

"Who was on the phone? What happened? What'd he say?"

"Jen, man," Jeff says, shaking his head. "It's. It's not my story to tell."

"But you know," Jensen says bitterly. "You know what he's been hiding this whole fucking year, don't you? I knew something was up as soon as I got back last Summer, but he wouldn't tell me. And you _know_. Are you two fucking now, too? Is that was this is about? Is that why you've been around so fucking much?"

He regrets it the moment it's out of his mouth. Jeff isn't that guy, wouldn't do that to Hillarie and Gus, and even if he was, _Jared_ sure as hell isn't. Jeff's face goes blank and furious, and Jensen knows he'd deserve it if Jeff knocked him flat right here right now, but Jeff has good control. He takes a deep breath and steps back, shoves his fists into the pockets of his jeans and glares.

"I'm gonna let that go, because you're upset, but fuck you very much, Jensen, you know me better than that."

"I'm—"

"And let's go ahead and knock this whole stinted lover thing off at the knees, okay? Jared and I are friends. Jared and _everyone_ are friends. You're the only jackass on the entire planet that doesn't know that he's been _yours_ for fucking years, man. He's so hung up on you he can't even see anyone else."

Jensen doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels a little light-headed and pale. His eyes hurt. He just wants to get to Jared. "But you know."

"I only know because Hillarie and I were there when he got a call last Summer," Jeff explains, voice gruff. "He didn't want to tell me. I just happened to be in town."

"What call?" Jensen asks, and his voice comes out flat and angry but he mostly just feels afraid. "Another one? Not this one?"

"Not this one, but related. Look, I can't," Jeff repeats. "I can't tell you. He has to. Give him some time. Go back in there and finish your scene and then go home to him."

"But he won't tell me. He hasn't."

"Then just be with him," Jeff says, like it's that easy.

"I don't know what to do," Jensen breathes. He's not even sure if Jeff hears. Jared has him all fucked up inside, and Jensen loves him so fucking much that sometimes he can't even breathe around it. He looks at Jeff like he might have all the answers, like they're John and Dean fucking Winchester. Jeff reaches out, grips Jensen's shoulder.

"When I met Hill I fell hard, y'know?" he says. "But it wasn't like, easy. I've got twenty years on her and I didn't want her stuck in the prime of her life with this grumpy old man."

"You guys are perfect," Jensen tells him. "You're like, you're perfect. I've never seen her happy like this before."

"Because no one in the fucking world can love her like I do," Jeff says. "No one."

Jensen shakes his head, feeling dazed. "I don't under—"

"You've both got battle scars, all right?" Jensen thinks of Danneel and nods. Jeff squeezes his shoulder. "Things don't have to be perfect. You've already got each other in every way that counts, you just don't know it. Neither of you know it."

"He doesn't want it," Jensen argues. "He told me. Jesus fucking Christ, Jeff, can we skip over the goddamn relationship advice? Jared is—"

"It's relevant. I swear it's relevant."

Jensen has never wanted to punch someone so badly in his entire life. "Look, Zen master, just..." he trails off, because he doesn't even know how to begin to finish that sentence. Just tell me what's wrong with Jared, maybe.

"Talk to him," Jeff says. "Finish your scene and go home and talk to him."

It's solid advice. It's the only advice he's really got. So he follows it.

Luckily, Dean's got an invisible hand wrapped around his throat for this take, so he has no lines and mostly just has to writhe around mid-air like he can't breathe, which is pretty much how he's feeling anyway, and then swing back into the padding on the wall and snap the back of his head against it as realistically as possible. It takes thirty minutes to get back into the damn harness and strung up, but he gets it done in one take.

All in all, it takes just over an hour and a half before he's facing the front door of the house like he's about to walk in front of a firing squad. He tries not to break into a sprint, the fear and worry for Jared almost overwhelming and very hard to control, but he keeps his gait normal as he walks inside. The kitchen light is on, and the one in the foyer. Jensen drops his keys and phone and wallet next to Jared's on the little table just inside the door.

"Jay?" he calls, but he's got a pretty good idea where Jared must be, because the dogs aren't all over him, so Jensen heads for the backdoor, slides it open. Jared's sitting on the top stair of the deck where he usually does when he brings the dogs out back. He turns his head at the sound of the door opening, offers a smile that's so weak Jensen wishes he wouldn't have tried it at all. It's kind of cold out, so Jensen wraps his jacket closer around himself as he steps outside. He can hear the dogs rooting around somewhere under the deck. Jared slides over accommodatingly and Jensen sits down next to him. The porch light is on. Jared still looks too pale, and there are lines of stress at his eyes and around his mouth.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=deck-picture.jpg)

"I had a dream last night about Sam and Dean and the sea otters," Jensen admits. Jared looks at him, eyebrow cocked, lips quirking up at the corners.

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't make that shit up. Sam and Dean were there and Sam wanted one of the otters and Dean was like, 'No, doofus, you can't have a pet we live in a car.'"

"I like that that's why he was opposed to it," Jared says. "Not like, 'No, fucker, you can't have a _sea otter_ as a _pet_ ,', but 'No you can't have a sea otter in _my car_."

"Dean has his priorities," Jensen shrugs.

Jared smiles a little wider, but it fades pretty fast, and they sit in silence for what feels like a long time before Jensen bumps their shoulders together and says, "Anytime you're ready."

Jared laughs like it's startled out of him, and the sound is raw like nothing Jensen's ever heard before, like layers have been peeled away from it and it's this wrecked and bleeding noise in the air between them. Jensen clenches his fists in the pockets of his jacket in an effort to keep his hands to himself.

"I'm just...trying to figure out where to start," Jared says.

"How about an essay?" Jensen suggests. "What I Did Over My Summer Vacation."

Jared grins, tilts his head to the side to sweep his hair out of his face and then looks out over the yard again. He's quiet again for a while, and this time Jensen lets it be, soaks in the silence until Jared can find his voice.

"Over my summer vacation," Jared finally starts, "I came out to my parents."

Jensen's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. His mouth opens to respond, but the words aren't there, and he ends up kind of gaping like an idiot at the side of Jared's head for a few seconds. Graciously, Jared keeps his gaze on the trees while Jensen collects himself.

"Wow," Jensen finally says, and cringes inwardly at how lame it sounds. "I'm. Wow. Came out? Like..."

"Like told them I'm pretty sure that things didn't work out with Sandy and haven't worked out with any girl since because I like dudes."

"Wow," Jensen says again. His sixth grade vocabulary teacher would be proud. It's not like he hasn't known himself. He's never actually seen Jared with another man, but he hasn't really seen him with another girl, either, since Sandy, not beyond a few week-long relationships. Jared flirts like he breathes, too, and doesn't take gender into account when he does it. Jensen always figured Jared swung both ways.

"Yeah," Jared murmurs. "Wow."

"What'd...How'd they take it?"

He's known Jared's parents for a long time now. He knows how much they love him. It doesn't do anything to assuage the bad, bad feeling churning in his gut though. Jared sits up a little straighter, almost defensive in the way he does it.

"Y'know," he says, shrugging, going for casual and failing miserably. "Not great. I didn't tell them when we were in Fiji...waited until we got back home. I mean, I didn't really expect it to be that big of a thing. My parents are, y'know, good ol' Christian Texas Republicans, but they're not bigoted or anything. And I didn't like, sit them down and explain it. They were talking about trying to set me up with this girl, like they do every time I go home, right? And I just told them, so they'd stop."

"What'd they say?" Jensen asks. He breathes in deep, feels cold air expand his chest. Harley is rolling around on his back in the grass, a big stuffed chicken that's so ratty and dirty it was banished outside almost two years ago in his mouth.

"They were just silent. Like, _silent_. Like God turned the world on mute silent, and I started thinking hey, maybe this isn't such a good idea, but it was too late. We were in the kitchen, and I was eating fucking Oreos with milk, and my mom was paying bills online and my dad was looking for something in the junk drawer, and they just stopped." Jared takes a slow breath and leans his head against the railing, looking exhausted. "My dad just, like, left the room, said goodnight and went upstairs. My mom tried to kind of talk me out of it for a while, y'know? We didn't fight or anything, but I got a little pointed with her. She went to bed too. The next morning they sat me down, told me that there was nothing I could ever do that would make them stop loving me, but that they needed some time. Then they asked me to leave."

It's like a sucker punch, leaving Jensen winded and wide-eyed. It must've been like being hit by a truck to Jared, then. Jensen can't even fathom it, can't imagine Jared's ever-doting parents doing something like that.

"Jared," he says, stupidly, because what else is there to say? Jared lifts his head again and meets his eyes for a second. He just looks resigned, and it breaks something inside Jensen to see it, something vital like his heart or his lungs.

"I understood," Jared murmurs. "I mean, I still do, I guess. I thought I did. I guess I just...Part of me knew they wouldn't be like, throwing a party or anything, which is why I hadn't told 'em before. They weren't cruel, and I know—I _know_ —that they still love me. It's just, I don't know if they'll ever accept it."

"Jesus, Jared," Jensen says. "That's." Not what he was expecting. Not at _all_. He had no idea what Jared was keeping from him but he never expected it to be something like this. Something so huge.

"I tried calling a few times over the summer, but they didn't want to talk, said they were still processing. Jeff and Hillarie were staying at the house, and my mom called once, but she just needed some information for the car title to the car I drove as a teenager, and it was so awkward, man, like she was talking to a stranger or something. She didn't know what to say, and I couldn't..." he trails off and Jensen reaches for Jared's arm, wraps his hand around it just under the elbow. Jared tries to smile again, fails. "Anyway. That's how Jeff found out...he was in the kitchen with me when the phone rang."

"And then tonight, he was with you when it rang again," Jensen murmurs.

Jared nods slowly, shakily, scrubs one of his big hands over his face and takes a deep breath. His voice isn't as steady as it was a second ago. "My sister's in the hospital with meningitis. Has been for over a week and they just now..."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah," Jared whispers. He clears his throat. "She's gonna be okay, but she almost died. My dad called, said he didn't want to worry me, waited until she was in the clear. I told him I'd book the next flight I could but he said that it wasn't a good idea. That mom was barely functioning already, and that they were stressed, that they couldn't handle...handle both problems right now."

Jensen grips Jared's arm harder and turns where he sits, tries to get Jared to face him but Jared's locked up tight, sitting so tense it looks like he'll might snap in half before he'll bend. He's still looking determinedly out at the trees and the yard and the dogs. "I'm. Fuck, man, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Jared says. Jensen lets go of his arm but just to grab at his hand, and it's Jared that slots their fingers together, wrists bumping and palms touching. Jensen opens his mouth again, wants to say something, to tell Jared how wrong his parents are, how unfair it is, that if there's anything at all he can do he'll do it, but Jared stops him, turns to him and kisses him, dry and slow, and Jensen kisses him back, cradles the back of Jared's head with his free hand.

When it breaks, Jared's trembling and they're both breathing hard. Jared rests their foreheads together and Jensen wraps his arm around him. It's awkward, both of the crammed between the banisters, but it doesn't matter. Jared's hurting. Bad. Has been for so long now and Jensen won't let him do it alone anymore.

"Jared, I'm—"

"Don't," Jared says, his voice more desperate than Jensen's ever heard it before. "Jen, please, don't. I can't. I can't talk about it. I can't."

"Hey, okay," Jensen murmurs. Their lips brush every time either of them moves their mouth. Jensen slides his hand over Jared's broad back. It feels like he's breaking apart inside. Jared's eyes are closed and he's gripping Jensen's hand tight and his other is curled into Jensen's jacket. He's trying to control his breathing (Jensen can feel it against the palm of his hand on Jared's back). "Let's go inside. Watch a movie or something."

Jared pulls back, just a little, just enough to see him clearly, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and nods. He looks wrecked, like an open wound.

They go inside and bring the dogs with them. Jared's moving like he's trying to make as little noise as possible, like he's trying not to be noticed. He takes a seat on the couch—Jensen's normal spot—and Jensen makes sure the dogs have food and grabs two beers out of the fridge and puts X-Files, which they've been watching steadily on Netflix over the last few weeks, up on the TV.

Two episodes in, their beers are gone, and they're both lying on the couch, Jensen on his back with Jared between his legs and on his chest, spread out all over him. He's warm and heavy and solid and so fucking sad, and Jensen fingers at Jared's hair and hooks his foot around one of Jared's ankles. Jared's heart is beating slow and steady. He's breathing deep and even. His eyes aren't open but he's not asleep. His hand is on Jensen's side, under his shirt, hot like a brand. It shouldn't be as easy at it is, lying here all tangled up in Jared, hurting with him, and Jensen probably wouldn't do it for anyone else, would never be able to shoulder someone else's pain like this, to feel it so acutely, but he's had trouble telling where he ends and Jared begins for years now. Chris told him once that he and Jared were attached at the hip. Jensen figures they're attached at a lot more than that.

"Jen?" Jared's voice is sleepy-soft and vibrates under Jensen's arm across his back.

"Mm?"

"Jeff called, before you got here."

"Oh yeah?"

"I didn't not tell you because I didn't want to. I just...It felt like there was nothing to say. I couldn't—There was nothing to say, y'know?"

Jensen tightens his arm around him, rolls his head a little on the arm of the couch and feels Jared's hair brush over his cheek, Jared's breath sweep over his chin. "I wasn't mad. I was just jealous when I found out Jeff knew."

"He said that too," Jared answers. He lifts his head, braces himself up over Jensen a little, looks down in Jensen's face. Jensen pushes his hand back through Jared's hair, holds it out of the way, so he can see him better. Jared looks calm and thoughtful and still so resigned. Jared sighs gently, swipes his tongue out over his bottom lip and swallows. "You don't...I mean, the last thing you should ever be is jealous, man. I wouldn't...I mean I like Jeff a lot, but you're, like..."

"I wasn't just jealous about that," Jensen admits, and it costs him something to say it, but not enough to matter. It's Jared. There's no cost too high.

"I know," Jared whispers, glancing away. Jensen cups his cheek, waits for him to meet his eyes again. Jared makes this sound in his throat that's part frustration, part pain, part want, too many things all knotted up inside him. "Jen, it's not...You don't have to be jealous about that either. I've been so fucking in love with you for so long now that it's not even...There's not anyone else, okay?"

"Jared."

"No, just. When we started fooling around it was the closest I thought I could get to having you, and it was fine. You weren't ever supposed to mean it."

Jensen frowns at him, irritated. "Why the fuck not?" he asks, his voice as easy as he can make it. "Isn't it a good thing?"

"No. No, it's not, because I'm not...God, Jen, I'm just not very much, y'know? I'm...You shouldn't—" He makes an aggravated sound and then takes a deep breath. He's not moving away though, is still staying as close as he can get. "You're fuckin' everything to me, and I'll mess you up, and I can't risk it."

Jensen's struck speechless for a few seconds. He can't even blink. He's caught somewhere between indignant ire and heart-wrenching sympathy. "Jared, you—"

"I'm sorry," Jared cuts him off. "I'm sorry, and I swear someday I'll stop like, clinging all over you and touching you and kissing you and shit, I promise. Right now, even, I'm—"

Jensen elbows Jared's arm until it gives way and then hauls him back down against him. He tucks Jared's head into his neck and wraps a leg around him and closes his eyes against the flash of blue light from the TV screen. Jared is stiff and guilty in his arms, but as minutes pass by in this stunted, stupid silence, he slowly relaxes, and when he does Jensen does too. Jared's hand finds its way back under Jensen's shirt and over his ribs, and his forehead rests against Jensen's jaw.

"Jensen?" Jared says cautiously.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Jensen tells him. He's so fucking tired of going around in these circles, and Jared is breaking his damn heart, here, in every way. He falls asleep with Jared and wakes up with Jared, and neither of them say anything beyond 'Yes I want Pop-Tarts' and 'I can't find my shoes'. It's stupid, and it's aggravating, and it hurts, and Jensen's _done with it_.

So when they get to the set, he sends Jeff a text that says _Let's talk_.

Less than a minute later, he gets one back: _Let's._

And, while Jared is working scenes with Misha and Jeremy, Jeff and Jensen take a golf cart out to the edge of the studio grounds. It's sunny and warm today and Dean's jacket is heavy on Jensen's shoulders, so he takes it off before he drops to sit on the sidewalk right inside the studio gates. The guy in the booth letting cars in and out looks at them funny, but Jeff just waves and smiles, all reassuring, and the guy leaves them alone.

"He told you?" Jeff asks, taking a seat next to him. They're leaning back against the high wall, stucco rubbing against the back of Dean's and John's shirts.

"Yeah. He's...I was hoping it was something I could do something about. I mean, part of it is, I think. I hope. But not his family."

"Yeah," Jeff murmurs. He's got a real deep voice, kind of gravel-rough and soothing. Jensen leans his head back against the wall. He feels exhausted. "He hasn't said a word about it since last year. I think he's dealing as best he can."

"With that, yeah," Jensen shrugs. They're quiet for a long time before he speaks again, all blunt honesty. "So I'm in love with him."

Jeff laughs, nods. "I know."

"He's in love with me too."

"Yup."

"For some reason, this is upsetting for him."

"He's a mystery."

Jensen sighs, finds his throat strangely obstructed by something huge and hard to swallow hard. His chest tightens painfully. "He doesn't think much of himself. I've been kind of noticing lately. I mean, some of the shit he says, and does or doesn't do or whatever. And it's not like he's self-deprecating or all Sing-My-Emo-Songs about it, he just like, doesn't think he deserves stuff. Like movie roles, because he's not a good enough actor, or love scenes, because his body is clearly not awesome, or to be mad at someone, because whatever they did it was just to him, or like, a relationship. Like..."

"Like you," Jeff finishes for him.

Jensen swallows again, presses his hands back against the wall and rubs the pads of his fingers over the rough stucco. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Like I'm some fucking prize, right? He said he can't risk messing me up."

"You've got a big shot movie coming out in a few months," Jeff says. "If you and Jared got together or whatever..."

"Oh, please, Jeff, you know me better than that. He'd be at the fuckin' premier with me, man. As my _date_. I'd walk the red carpet with him."

"But your career will suffer for it."

"I don't care," Jensen says. He tilts his head, startled to realize how incredibly true that is. He's fought tooth and nail for every inch of his career, fought so hard to get past being seen as just a pretty young face and into something real and lasting that he can be proud of. He's been compulsively protective of it. He'd risk it all if it meant he could have Jared. He blinks, and looks around at Jeff, wide-eyed. Jeff is grinning a little. "I don't care," Jensen repeats.

"Good," Jeff says. "Now you've just got to make him realize that he doesn't either. That he can shove his angst and his insecurities because they're selfish and destructive and he doesn't even realize he actually has them. He's worried about a lot of shit and he's raw as fuck from what his parents've done, and he's letting shit get to him that he shouldn't. He's not gonna be happy unless he lets himself be."

Jensen thinks on that for a long time, and then it hits him like lightning. Like someone flipped a switch. "I think I've got an idea."

Jeff perks up a bit at that, looks at him curiously, eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Not like, a good one, but I got one. Might need your help."

"Sure, kid," Jeff says, grinning. "Anything."

"Just like...We wrap Monday. Can you keep him busy after that for a few hours? I mean, keep him sober, but busy. Away from the house."

Jeff looks confused, but he says, "Sure," and Jensen smiles.

"Cool."

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=divider.png)

Jeff drops Jared off on Monday night right around ten, and Jensen's ready for him in the living room. He doesn't make a sound as Jared let's himself in, as the dogs clack their way over to him and Jared kneels down and coos at them. He waits for Jared to drop his keys and wallet and phone on the side table and finally wander into the living room. Which has changed. And Jared notices right away.

The bookshelf that he pulled out from the wall all those months ago has been moved to the opposite wall next to the fireplace. It actually looks pretty good over there, but the important thing is that the extra light switch Jared found that night is visible now with nothing obstructing it. Jared's eyes dart from the bookshelf, to the light switch, to Jensen sitting on the couch looking at him over the back of it. Jensen smiles at him, pats the spot next to him.

Jared seems momentarily speechless and more than a little suspicious, but he walks over and folds himself down next to Jensen.

"Feng shui?

Jensen shakes his head. "No."

He doesn't say anything else though, looking for the right words. He hadn't really planned beyond this. After a couple of minutes, Jared looks at him like he might be losing his mind. "Okay, so, did you just feel like—"

"Danneel almost killed me," Jensen says suddenly. Kind of shouts it, actually, so abrupt. Jared even leans back a little from the force of it. Jensen feels blood rushing into his cheeks and clears his throat, quiets the nerves screaming in his head and forces himself to go on. "Losing her. I mean really. Ripped my heart out, stomped on it, went after it with a staple gun, left me broken and alone and listening to Alanis Morissette."

Jared doesn't seem to be reassured in Jensen's sanity, but he nods slowly. "Yeah," he says, and his eyes are all sympathy and he even reaches out and pats Jensen's hand and God, Jensen just wants to keep him forever. "I remember."

"So after her, I didn't ever really think about having anything again, anything lasting or real anyway. Even with Shauna earlier this year. I mean, it almost killed me once, so the second time would definitely be the end, right?"

"Jensen."

"But with you," Jensen goes on before Jared can protest, "it's like. I never really thought about it, because I've never had to, because it was so easy with you. It always has been. Like second nature. And I'm realizing now that you asked so many times, all these times I thought were jokes or you were just fucking around, and when we started like, messing around, it was like why not, right?"

Jared flinches a little at that, and Jensen rushes to explain. "No, not like. I mean, it was us, and after the whole Shauna thing, where she broke up with me because I'm completely into _you_ and not anyone else, I didn't want to, y'know, Why Not with other people."

"Jensen," Jared tries again, but Jensen just shakes his head.

"Just let me. When Danneel broke up with me and was talking about how I wanted to stay in Vancouver and live in Vancouver and stuff, she was right, but the common denominator wasn't Vancouver, y'know? If you'd been living in LA, I'd have called that home in a second. Or if you'd been in Texas, or hell, like, New Dheli, whatever. It's like, home is where Jared is. Life is where Jared is. You're so completely the person I could spend the rest of my life with. That I _want_ to spend the rest of my life with."

"Did you just propose to me?"

"Shut up," Jensen says, and he's grinning because he can't help it, because it feels really fucking good to say all this. "I heard what you said. That day you broke it off and said you aren't enough. And I kind of get it. I know you're scared, but you're scared of _stupid shit_ , Jared. You're scared of messing me up and losing me, whatever." He waves a hand around in the air dismissively, and Jared's just looking at him, face blank but not unhappy, just floored. Just listening. "I know it really scares you, but it's not fair of you to make this decision for both of us. You aren't gonna lose me, ever, no matter what happens. And I'm already so messed up there's not much more damage you could do."

"Jensen—"

"I love you," Jensen says. "Jared, listen to me, okay? I love you. I want you to be with me. I want to share the master bedroom, and I want to legally adopt your dogs and give them my surname, and I want to play Lego Indiana Jones 2 with you and play Dean to your Sam for as long as we can keep the show running and I want to spill my baggage all over you and pick up some of yours and I want to have sex with you all the time. I like the way you suck my dick and I like that you took care of me when I was sick and disgusting and I don't need or want you to be anything other than my jackass best friend who gets a little lost sometimes when he's hurting and goes around comparing himself to light switches. You gotta meet me half-way, here."

He stops there, before he really embarrasses himself. His ears are burning and he hasn't talked so much at one time since he was like, eight years old, but nothing that he's said isn't true. Jared doesn't say anything at first, just sits and stares, calmly, eyes searching Jensen out like he's weighing his options. Jensen sits through it even though his heart is hammering his chest.

And then Jared stands up and walks over to the newly-uncovered wall. He lifts his hand to the extra light switch and touches it almost reverently, with more than a little nervous in there. He looks at Jensen and bites his bottom lip, and Jensen holds his breath. When Jared flips the switch up, the kitchen erupts into noise. Jared's breath catches, he looks wide-eyed and hopeful at Jensen and then rushes out of the living room and through the foyer and into the kitchen. Jensen follows.

The blender that Jared makes his God-awful protein shakes in is on, churning up the protein powder and the vegetables Jensen shoved in there earlier. It's plugged into the same outlet it always has been, which is just fine, but now it's connected to the light switch in the living room and that's even better.

Jared's laughing, a hand kind of hovering over his mouth, and when he looks around at Jensen he's all lit up like Jensen hasn't seen him in too long.

"It was just an extra light switch," he says.

Jensen shakes his head, steps closer. "It was always a light switch," he agrees. "It just wasn't hooked up yet."

"And this is how it hooks up now?" Jared asks, gesturing to the blender.

Jensen just shrugs, casual as can be. "Maybe not the easiest way to go about making your damn protein shakes. But easy's never really been our style."

Jared's dimples dig deep into his cheeks, his teeth endearingly crooked on bottom and very white. He closes the distance between them, grabs Jensen by the shirt and pulls him in. He looks nervous and terrified and hopeful and happy all at once.

"I might mess up," he says over the noise of the blender, which has reduced the vegetables to liquid.

"We both might mess up," Jensen answers, nudging his nose against Jared's. "I want you to be my date to the movie premier."

Jared laughs again. "Okay."

Jensen grins, heart racing light. His whole world is on the line right now and he's not even all that freaked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jared answers, and kisses him.

When it breaks, Jensen's smiling so hard his face his hurts, and he cups Jared's neck in both hands, swipes his thumbs over Jared's deep dimples.

"I want a sea otter," Jared murmurs.

"No pets in my car, Sam."

Jared laughs, arms wrapped around Jensen, huge and enveloping. "Jen, man, I'm..." he says, but just tightens his grip.

"I know," Jensen tells him.

Jared pulls back enough for Jensen to see his face, and he's smiling and real and Jensen can't believe it took them this long to figure out that they've been here all this time and didn't know it. Jared tilts his head to the side and Jensen pushes back the hair that falls into his face.

The blender is still on, and the dogs are right outside the back door howling at the noise, and Jared grips Jensen's chin and tilts his face up, and Jensen parts his lips. They meet halfway.

[ ](http://s1111.photobucket.com/albums/h474/checkthemargins/?action=view&current=logo-end.png)


End file.
